Stolen Kisses
by Alcamenes
Summary: R/Hr--Ron is determined to prove to Hermione that just because he's male, it doesn't make him any less romantic. Written in his PoV, he recounts the first few years of their relationship.*Complete*
1. Chapter 1

A/N It's been a while since I've contributed anything, and of course it hasn't helped that ff.net has been down for almost a month. Still, this is a plot bunny that I caught while at work one night; it was originally just a short introspection fic, but as I started thinking about it, and as I started writing more of it, it evolved into something more. It's written from Ron's point of view as I love him the most out of all the characters in this little universe and I hope I've done him—and this story—justice.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, etc. are the intellectual property of JKR; no infringement is intended.

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Stolen Kisses

We never could hide anything from Harry, and I imagine that from the moment Hermione and I admitted our feelings that he knew about it; still, he never said anything, knew that we needed those moments to ourselves, those moments where we thought we were being so clever. We were always convinced that no one could possibly know what we were up to when we came-up with lame excuses to be alone. We never thought anything of those little smirks he used to give us—well himself, really—when Hermione gave me the signal that meant we were supposed to sneak-off for our 'alone time.' If anyone had ever told me that more often than not it would be Hermione initiating those little meetings, I would have chewed-off my own arm…not like we ever really did anything when we sneaked off. For the most part we'd bicker like crazy on our way down to whichever spare corner of the library—yes, believe it or not, Hermione actually let us desecrate one of her most cherished places—or empty classroom we might happen to stumble upon on that particular day, and once there we'd exchange a few stolen kisses. 

I loved kissing Hermione—still do, in fact. Back then, we didn't know much better than to be giving each other a few pecks, but even then it surprised me how wholly she gave of herself in those kisses, and, when kissing got boring (which it never really did, but with the two of us, kissing is just a small portion of what we are together) we'd sit on the floor with her against my chest. I've always marveled at the fact that she's so small as compared to me, and holding her in my arms has always put emphasis on that fact—it's also put emphasis on how much I like the feeling that somehow, having her in my arms means that I'm protecting her. We'd sit there for hours sometimes, just thinking, or talking, but most of the time she'd read to me—from textbooks, of course (let it never be said that Hermione Granger was ever so wholly taken-over by my boyish charms that she'd forget about schoolwork)—and I'd listen, if only for the fact that I love listening to her voice, the silky smooth glide of it when she's relaxed, the way it changes so quickly to a gritty annoyance—mostly when I'm around—and how just one word from her could have, and did, change the meaning of my entire existence.

I've always pondered the intricacies of language, wondered what it was about words that their meanings could so profoundly change the definition of an entire relationship. Words like 'friends', 'couple', 'lovers', those would all be words that would come to define what Hermione and I had, what we were together, but _who_ we were together, that never really changed, even when everything else had. Have I always loved Hermione? I think that I have. There may have been a time where I didn't know my feelings for her but still felt them within me. That subdued throbbing in my chest when she was around, the thrumming in my veins that I took for annoyance but was really, for the most part, something completely different, they were signs to what I really felt for her. Of course, at eleven years old, love isn't really something that I spent any length of time considering, and when years later I did realize my true feelings, I had to find the right words to tell her, had to make sure to find the words that would match language to emotion. I suppose that, in part, that's why I ended up telling her in the middle of a fight.

If you think about it, anger is the closest emotion there is to love. They say that there's a thin line between love and hate, and I suppose that's kind of what happened between the two of us, although I never did hate Hermione, no matter what I said or how I acted, I could never hate her. For that matter, I don't really think that I've ever truly hated anyone. Malfoy would come the closest, but to say that I hate him, that I would sacrifice my freedom for his life, that's putting things strongly. Anyway, where was I? Oh, right…one reacts in love much as one does in anger. The rapid heartbeat, the flushed face, the feeling that you're going to burst at any second—it's all the same, really, if you think about it. Maybe that's why Hermione and I used to fight so much…I can't speak for her, but I know that more often than not, fighting with her was the only outlet I had for all of the pent-up tension. For the longest time, I didn't think she felt the same way, was convinced she could never see me as anything other than, well, me, really. It's taken years for me to understand that she sees to the deepest recesses of my soul, and she's with me because she sees something in me that's beyond what anyone else sees, myself included. I see the same in her, really. All her life, the only thing people have noticed is that she's smart, a bookworm, and all that she's ever really seen in herself is someone who needs to be the best at everything she does, someone who has to prove herself. Being good at everything is the way she defines herself, and she is that to me, but also so much more: she's the girl who knows I'm a light sleeper and whispers me awake instead of shaking and startling the hell out of me. She's the girl, the only girl, who can make me do anything just by scowling at me but knows not to take advantage. She's the girl that, when I think of children, I want them all to look exactly like her. She's not _just_ the smartest, most successful witch I know, she's also the best witch I know, the best person I know, and even at a young age I understood that on a rudimentary level.

When did I figure out that I was in love with Hermione Granger? I knew that something felt different when I was around her, and I knew that people didn't think of friends the way I thought about her. I mean, I never went about noticing how Harry's eyes glow in the firelight, or how his bottom lip is slightly poutier than normal because he has a tendency to bite on it when he's studying Arithmancy. Never mind that none of those things actually apply to Harry, because if they had, I certainly never would have gone about noticing them. What clinched it, though, what made me finally come to the realization was just plain old fear that quickly escalated to jealousy. Not one of my shinier moments to say the least, and though I hate to admit it, if it hadn't been for Viktor Krum, I may never have reached that point, what Snape used to refer to the action potential in potions (probably the only lecture I paid attention in throughout my seven year career) that you have to reach for everything to fall into place. It was then that I realized all at once what my feelings for Hermione really meant, and that she just wouldn't always be there for the taking. I realized, after many arguments and several occasions of my making a complete fool of myself, that unless I was planning on being miserable for the rest of my life, that I had to make a move, and make it before I lost her to someone else—quite possibly (and probably) someone much better than me whom she'd never, ever leave. I realized that I had to act, and had to act fast…two years later, I finally did it.

So I never said that I was perfect. Hermione's asked me time and time again what it was that made me wait so bloody long—she actually used the word bloody. Scared the sodding bollocks out of me, too…I thought she'd been taken-over by a dark wizard, or something—to get my head out of my arse and tell her. In fact, the answer to that is that I don't know. All I know is that within that moment, no matter how loudly she was yelling, and never mind the fact that she was poking her finger at my chest rather painfully, all I could see in front of me was the most beautiful girl I'd laid eyes upon. I was mad as hell, of course, but through the anger, the only thing that I really wanted to do right then was take that mouth beneath mine and see once and for all if it really tasted as sweet as I'd imagined it would for two years. It was in that moment that my life _really_ changed, in that moment that I knew that everything would be all right, and so far everything has. Now you're probably asking yourself what the point to all of this is, why an otherwise manly guy who would never in a million years compromise his manliness is pouring-out his heart on paper. Well the answer is pretty simple actually: Hermione is making me. Now only because I love her as much as I do, and only because I'd cut my own hand off if it made her happy, am I allowed to say how completely nuts that girl is. Seems she's gotten it in her head (probably from Lavender and Parvati, those girls are trouble) that I'm not nearly as romantic as I should be; that after five years of being together, I've settled into too comfortable a routine and that our relationship is lacking those little touches that used to make it special.

Girls! I will never understand them as long as I live. First of all, of course I've settled into a comfortable routine! I mean, what kind of a relationship would this be if I were nervous and edgy every time I was around the woman? And I have no idea what she means by our relationship lacking the little touches that used to make it special. Okay, so I haven't given her flowers in a few months, but every time I do she always feels badly that they'll end up dying in a few days. Lacking little touches! Ha! Why, just last week I got her _Obscurus' Compact Dictionary of Mermish_ a book previously published in 27 volumes but that's now been released in only one _and_ that came with its own magnifying glass! She's had her eye on it for months but thought it was too expensive, not to mention that she'll have it for the rest of her life (it'll probably take her that long to read it all, too) and it won't, like the flowers, be obsolete after a few days. 

On top of my being too comfortable and my not being nearly romantic enough anymore, she also had the nerve to say that I've probably forgotten all of the little details that made our relationship in the first few years. She seems to think that because I'm male and not 'gushy' like a girl, that I also lack any kind of memory and the brain that stores it. So, she has challenged me to a little contest. She has dared me to write all about how we came about to be, without help from any of our friends. She wants me to write about our relationship when it first began. Apparently she thinks that I couldn't possibly remember those kinds of details—well blimey, just because I don't remember what her Aunt Ruth wore at her cousin's second daughter's baptism three and a half years ago, it doesn't mean I'm daft! Hmph! Well, Hermione Granger, if you think that I'm going to quit that easily, then you're in for a surprise. I remember every important thing that has ever happened to me, and you are the most important of them all. So, no matter how crazy I happen to think this is, I'm willing to do it if only because it'll make you happy. I have no doubt that I will win this little contest of yours; now if only I knew where to begin…

A/N This was short I know, but it was only meant to serve as an introduction; in the next chapter Ron starts telling his story and with it comes all the fluffiness and gooeyness you've been waiting for. 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: And here we are with chapter the second! I hope it lives-up to everyone's expectations. 

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, etc. are the intellectual property of JKR; no infringement is intended.

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Chapter 2

The biggest problem I'm facing now is deciding where to start. Beginning in first year would probably be the logical choice as I first met you then, but then I don't think there's paper enough in the world for me to write everything that's come into my head since first year. The other logical choice would be to start right at that moment where I kissed you, but at the same time I think it would be cheating you out of all the events that surrounded that moment that, if they hadn't happened, might have caused me to take even longer to come clean. Instead, I suppose I'll start a few months before that moment, at the beginning of our sixth year. By then, Viktor had found himself a steady girlfriend; you hadn't told me this, and I hadn't bothered to bring it up, but I have to say that I'd never been happier of the fact that he was a big Quidditch star as it meant his whole life was plastered in Quidditch Weekly for the whole world to see. Still, even with a girlfriend, it didn't stop him from owling you every week, and I have to say that I was more than a bit miffed about that. 

I remember that Bulgaria had played England that summer and that he'd stayed a few days longer so that he would be able to see you. Of course, what I remember most is that I found out from Harry that Viktor was staying at your house for a few days. I'd been wondering why it had been a week and you still hadn't replied to my last letter. It usually took only a matter of hours most of the time, two days at the most, but in your last letter you'd mentioned that you were nursing a bit of a cold and so I assumed that you just weren't feeling up to writing, that you were still under the weather. It's a good thing Harry's such a great guy, and that he understood (even if he didn't mention it) what I was going through because he took the brunt of the blow when I found out. For someone who doesn't like obscenities, you'll be happy to know that you weren't around when I found out, because I could have rivaled a sailor at the time…

__

Harry seemed really uncomfortable when I mentioned your name; he'd been pretty quiet that summer which was really pretty understandable after everything he'd been through over the past five years. It seemed trouble followed him around wherever he went, but still he never complained even though he was surely going through a tougher time than everyone else put together. When the news had come that he'd be able to stay at the Burrow, we were all ecstatic, and even that had seemed to put him in a better mood. He'd been smiling more and seemed to come out of his shell, and so when I dropped your name, saying that I hoped you were feeling better, I couldn't understand why he'd suddenly gone quiet. He was frowning slightly and staring at his feet; he couldn't look me in the eye, and that was never a good sign.

"Harry, did you hear me? I said I hope Hermione's feeling better. She owled me last week and said she was feeling ill, but she hasn't sent anything since even though I've written her at least three times since then," Harry was still looking at his feet, and now he'd really started worrying me; I couldn't quite put my finger on what would make him act this way, but the first thought that crossed my mind was that something had happened to you, that you were really sick but hadn't wanted to tell me. I guess when you're living in a time where war is about to break, the worst always comes to mind. "Oh God, Harry; you don't think that something might really be wrong with her, do you? I mean she just said she might be catching a bit of a sniffle, a sniffle can't be that bad can it?" I don't what I said that was so funny, but the next thing I knew was that Harry was laughing hysterically; I have to say that I had no idea how to take it. I mean one minute I was worrying myself sick over whether or not you'd caught some deadly strain of the sniffles, and the next I had my best friend laughing in my face. Needless to say I did not find the situation very amusing, but as Harry didn't laugh nearly as much as he should in those days, I let it pass and waited until he'd caught his breath…which I'm sorry to say wasn't until several_ minutes later._

"I'm sure she's fine, Ron," he told me in a slightly condescending tone; the boy had been spending much too much time around my brothers—Percy in particular.

"What do you mean you're sure she's fine? Has she been writing to you?" I asked him, immediately paranoid. I know that Harry's my best friend, and I love him as though he's my own brother. He would never do anything to hurt me, but when you're in love you don't necessarily think rationally. The mere thought that perhaps you'd been owling him while I hadn't received so much as a quick note in the past week made me immediately jump to the conclusion that you and he were partaking in a torrid affair behind my back. "Is there something going-on between you and Hermione that I should know about?" I heard myself say, even though my voice sounded more like a squeak. My heart was beating in my chest, and even though I wanted to hear Harry's answer, at the same time if there was_ something going on, I really would have rathered not know about it. Of course, Harry's answer didn't come for another few minutes as he'd once again caught a laughing fit. The sound was so foreign these days that Mum actually came-up and knocked on the bedroom door to ask if everything was all right. By this point, Harry had tears pouring out of his eyes, and he'd taken to rolling around on the floor, pounding his fist on the pillow he'd dragged down with him so that he was in no condition to answer. I had to come up with some imaginative excuse to make Mum go away, but she probably thought I'd hit you with some kind of laughing spell. Still, by that point I really didn't care what she thought. I was beginning to be at the end of my rope, and I really needed to know what was going on with you. I hated to admit it, but a week was a really long time to go without getting an owl from you, and, well…I missed you._

It finally took a kick in the ribs to get Harry to stop laughing—I didn't hit him that_ hard, before you start lecturing—and besides, I really needed to know what was going on. What if Harry told me that there _was_ something going on between the two of you? What if I found out that the two of you had been seeing each other behind my back for months, and all those times where I'd felt maybe I wasn't so far off in thinking that there might be something between the two of us were really all in my head? I don't think I would have been able to bear the thought of losing you to my best friend before I'd even had the chance to have you in the first place. The fact was that I hadn't even told Harry how I felt about you, and if he had feelings for you I didn't want to have to compete with him over you because truth was, I was convinced that I would end up losing the both of you in the end._

"You actually think that…I mean, you thought that…" Harry kept starting, but what I really needed from him was a complete sentence at that point. I fought the urge to kick him again—he was, after all, my best friend, and though he had a swift kick coming to him, I could just hear your voice in my head when you found-out I'd manhandled your boyfriend…because at that point, I'd convinced myself of the worst.

"Congratulations to the both of you," I muttered, amazed at how easily the lie could come out of my mouth. Of course it wasn't okay that you were dating Harry, for Merlin's sake!! I felt as though I was about to lose my lunch as I slinked down to the floor beside him, feeling the blood rush from my face. I had visions of your wedding flashing in front of my eyes, of my waiting next to him as you were walking down the aisle to marry him_, visions of me in the hospital waiting room as he announced that you'd just given _him_ a son; I was in the middle of imagining the two of you announcing that your daughter had announced her engagement when I felt a swift blow connect with the back of my head. It took me a moment to realize that Harry had just smacked me one._

"Snap out of it, Ron, would you?" Harry told me, though it took me a moment to realize he was addressing me as I was still too busy rubbing the back of my head—I suppose it was just retribution for the kick I'd faithfully administered moments before, but that didn't change the fact that it hurt like hell. "What are you going on about? You know perfectly well there's nothing going-on between Hermione and I, did Fred and George feed you anything unusual today?" he asked me, but all I could do was shake my head no as relief flooded over me, only to be replaced by sheer panic seconds later.

"You mean she really is_ sick?" I asked with my eyes wide, and felt Harry's hand connect with the back of my head once more. I gave him a seething look, and could have sworn he was trying to hide a smile. He was enjoying this brother thing way too much._

"She's not sick, Ron; well she did catch a bit of a cold, but she's doing well enough," he told me. Part of me was relieved that you were all right, but at the same time part of me was worried. Had I inadvertently said something to make you angry with me? Why weren't you speaking to me? I thought as hard as I could about what I could have said that would have set you off (and by 'set you off' I only mean that I so often say thoughtless, cruel things without giving thought to what I'm about to utter before opening my mouth. I understand that my behavior is by no means excusable and that you have every right to go nutters—err, that is, to lose your temper in response to my unpardonable behavior as you so often do—though quite rightly so, obviously) but honestly couldn't come-up with anything. I had_ spoken slightly unfavorably of Crookshanks, but only to ask you how the devil incarnate was doing, I mean, that couldn't possibly be construed as something bad, could it? I had asked after the well being of something you cherished (even if it was in the hope, however slight, that it was to receive news of its tragic death, but you didn't know that) and that couldn't possibly be bad. So what had happened, what had I done or said to make you mad at me? Apparently Harry knew exactly what the look on my face meant, because he chuckled and gave me a slap on the back. "She's not angry with you, Ron, so you can stop trying to think of what you did to set her off again." (Harry's words, not mine!)_

"So why hasn't she answered me back in over a week?" I asked, thoroughly confused at that point, and Harry went back to studying his feet.

"Well it's really not my place to say," he said—as if that measly excuse was going to stop me from prying. Ha! Obviously he hadn't a clue as to my mother's abilities to retrieve information from her children with but a mere look (a skill that I'd perfected myself over the years and that I would put into use now). 

"Harry, you know that I'm only going to keep at it until you tell me something_. Now think about it logically for a moment. We can either do this the hard way with my bothering you all day, or we can do it the easy way with your just telling me what's happening and then we can celebrate with a pick-up game of Quidditch," I offered, and for a moment I really thought that it had worked, but I'd underestimated my opponent. Harry could be as hardheaded as Hermione if he put his mind to it._

"I really can't tell you," he told me, but I could tell I'd gotten to him at least a little bit as I saw him glance out the window and then to the corner of my room where our brooms were. "I can't tell you, but if you were to guess then it really wouldn't be telling, would it?" he said, and hey, I couldn't argue with that logic no matter how faulty I knew_ you were going to tell us it was if you found out._

"Fair enough," I agreed, almost licking my lips in anticipation as I gave Harry a little nudge to encourage him to continue.

"Well, she's not angry with you, but she thought you might be angry with her," he revealed, and I think that I might have snorted at how completely idiotic that sounded. Everyone knew you were always the one that got angry first, and if I got angry with you in return, it was only a way for me to retaliate and to defend myself! "A friend of hers was going to be staying at her house for a bit of a visit this week," Harry was continuing, as it was pretty obvious I wasn't catching on to what he was saying.

"So she's having a friend over, what does that have to do with anything?" I asked, annoyed. What, so you were having a friend over so all of a sudden you could only owl Harry and not me? And what made you think that I would get angry with you anyway? I mean, I hadn't been the first one to get angry with you in ages! Why the last time had been that time at the Yu—oh, bloody hell, you had_ to be joking._

"Viktor Krum!" I spat, feeling the fury radiating from my body. I could feel my ears glowing and the blood rushing to my face. "Put a silencing spell on the room," I was able to mutter through clenched teeth, and within minutes Harry had uttered the requisite words.

"Ron?" he asked uncertainly, but I was seething at that point and couldn't really hear him.

"Why that bloody, sodding, son of a—"

I'll spare you the details that came after that. To this day you still think that I didn't know Viktor had spent the week at your house. You still think that I was clueless until you told me the week after, the weekend when you came to the Burrow for Harry's birthday and I told you that I hoped you'd been nursing your cold. I remember the way you were surprised that I could shrug it off so easily, but what you didn't know was that I'd spent an entire day yelling myself hoarse over it. If Harry didn't know the way I felt about you, he must have found out on that day, but he still didn't say anything. He let me yell and scream, and when I was finished he pat my shoulder and handed me my broom, and then we played Quidditch until it was too dark to even see the snitch. Even then, though, the worry still gnawed at my insides. I can say this now, but back then I couldn't even face it, much less vocalize it: the reason I disliked Viktor so much wasn't so much that I thought he was a bad person as much as I felt threatened by him. He was the only person I'd ever suspected you might have more than platonic feelings for (if we discount those occasional moments of insanity where I was convinced you and Harry were having a secret relationship) and he was definitely the only person I'd ever seen to openly display the fact that he had more than platonic feelings for you. I knew that he had a girlfriend at the time, but even then I was convinced that just one look at you would make him see just what he was missing-out on. He would take one look at you and his whole world would disappear; it would only be you and him in the room and even if there were a thousand other people there, it would only be the two of you. Nothing else would matter. I knew so clearly what it felt like to be alone in a room full of people because I'd felt that way with you every time I'd seen you over those past two years, and what scared me the most was that Viktor might see that too. I couldn't compete with a star Quidditch player, just like I couldn't compete with my best friend, and no matter how scared I was, it was then that I decided that two years of waiting to make a move had been enough. I had to tell you no matter what that meant. I was going to tell you how I felt, and I would be doing it soon—by the end of that year, it would be done.

A/N: This is not the end, folks! There is still more to come!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: And here we are with chapter the third! To answer some of your questions, the italicized sections represent flashbacks of the trio's sixth year at Hogwarts recounted from Ron's point of view. The non-italicized sections represent 'present day'. When you see 'you' in the story, it refers to Hermione. Essentially, Ron is writing/telling this directly to Hermione, which is why it's written in first person, and (quite evidently) why she is the second person. Also, I've tried to reduce my paragraph lengths, but really this is the best I can do folks; I'm notorious for my long sentences (my spell check hates me for it) and long paragraphs happen to be part of the deal. However, if you're merely having difficulty reading because of the ff.net font, the illustrious **sgrquill** has told me that printing-out the chapters before reading them helps get rid of that weird glare, so you might want to try that.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, etc. are the intellectual property of JKR; no infringement is intended.

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Chapter 3

I never had an actual plan as to how I was going to tell you. I'd like to think that it was because I'm an easy-going bloke, but really the reason I never formed any kind of logical plan was because I was scared out of my bloody wits. If I had a plan then it meant that I would have to go through with it, and if I actually went through with it, I opened myself up to all sorts of horrific disaster scenarios. In those few weeks before school had started again, I used to wake-up in the middle of the night in cold sweat, my heart ramming against my ribcage, my breathing coming to me in gasps. You know that dream where you realize you're in the middle of a crowded hallway wearing nothing but your knickers? Well my nightmares were a thousand times worst than that one. Had I had the choice, I think that I would have picked being locked-up in a box filled with spiders rather than tell you how I felt about you.

I suppose that now that I know the outcome of that particular encounter that it was pretty silly of me to be so worried about your rejecting me. Still, at the time, had a Bogart crossed my path, it wouldn't have turned into something hairy and leggy, it would have turned into you, laughing in my face and telling me that you just couldn't be friends with someone so stupid as to believe that you might actually consent to be seen with the likes of me. It used to tear me up that I couldn't tell you how I felt, but the fear that you would tell me you didn't feel the same way always put a stop to whatever it was that gave me the urge to just scream out from the rooftops how crazy in love I was with you.

Even though we weren't together romantically, the boundaries of our relationship had still changed some over the years we'd known each other, and most of those changes had occurred after fourth year. I remember a time where we would have screaming matches and practically pull each other's hair out, but as we'd grown, our fighting style had grown with us. We still bickered over every possible thing but it was more of a game now than anything. It used to drive Harry bonkers to be in a room with us, because he never knew whether or not we were actually fighting. I think the fact that I usually sported a huge grin was clue enough that it was just good-natured arguing. Oh, but you used to get so riled-up sometimes, and I have to say that more often than not, I used to provoke you a little just to see you get all flustered. Your cheeks would turn bright pink and your eyes would start glowing. You would get impatient with me, but with everything around you as well. More than one poor unsuspecting soul got snapped at while we argued, but what always got the brunt of your irritation was your hair: the more we bickered, the more aggressively you would push it out of your face. You know, I used to wish that I could be one of those wayward strands because then I'd know the softness of your skin, the warmth of your lips. I used to wish a lot of things, but knowing how your lips would feel beneath mine was always what it came down to. Of course, at the rate I was going, it would never happen.

__

I always looked forward to September 1st because even though it meant the start of term, and homework, and potions, it also meant seeing you every day. Kings Cross was filled with people as it always was, and it seemed as though Platform 9 ¾ had never been so crowded. I have to admit that I was feeling a little claustrophobic that morning amidst all those bodies, but being over six feet has its advantages, and at least from where I stood, I could get some fresh air. I have to admit that fresh air wasn't the only thing on my mind, though. Finding a certain brown-haired witch was on the top of my list of priorities. Who would have thought that I would be so engrossed in scanning over the crowd trying to locate you that in the end it would be you spotting me first. I was still staring intently into the distance, squinting my eyes to try and make clear the blur of people coming and going when I felt a slight poke in my ribs followed by Harry's greeting of "there you are, I thought Ron was going to make himself blind looking for you in this crowd." I reminded myself to thank Harry for his tact. Though I hadn't formally told him of my feelings for you, he'd still found ways to drop (rather big) hints in our conversations, and though I knew that he knew and he knew that I knew that he knew, there'd been an unspoken arrangement between us that the subject wasn't to be brought up—of course that really didn't stop Harry from working around this arrangement, which he'd frequently done over the past month. Personally, I think that he just liked to see me squirm.

Hearing Harry's voice, I turned just in time to see the two of you hugging, and to see you ruffle his hair as you placed a kiss on his cheek. I don't really know when you'd gotten into the habit of kissing Harry, but it had become a regular occurrence and it didn't sit well with me. After all, you never kissed me_ on the cheek, and granted you couldn't reach that high (which probably accounted for those lacks of kisses) I still _really_ hated it that Harry got to be kissed and I didn't. I must have had a bit of a frown on my face, or maybe I'd even been reduced to a pouting idiot at that stage, because when you turned in my direction you took one look at my face and let out a quiet laugh. What was it with you and Harry laughing at me lately, anyway? Was I really _that_ funny? But I couldn't have cared less at that moment, because while you were laughing, you'd also pulled me down for a hug; I took the opportunity to take-in everything about you, the way you felt so small in my arms, the way your hair smelled, but when you grabbed me by the front of my shirt and got on your tiptoes, when you tilted your face up to kiss my cheek, my mind went absolutely blank. Albeit, it was a very chaste kiss, but instinct made it so that I turned my head in your direction, and instead of landing squarely on my cheek, the corner of your lips just grazed my own. _

I don't know if you noticed as I was consciously fighting the urge to bring my hand up to that spot on my lips that seemed to be tingling; still, when I looked your way, I thought that your cheeks might be just a little rosier than usual, and looking in Harry's direction, I had to fight a completely different urge—that of lifting my hand in what you would think was a very rude hand gesture—as he was making kissy faces behind your back. Instead, I chose to ignore him and cleared my throat as I ran my hand gruffly through my hair in an attempt to keep it occupied (my hand that was).

"Hi," I addressed you, trying my best to come up with a casual smile, but that kiss was still imprinted in my head, and the grin that graced my face in its wake was anything but_ casual. _

"Hi," you said in return, hints of a smile tugging at your lips, "are you excited? The reading material alone is so much more involved than it was last year," you began, and my grin only grew. Just as I always turned the subject to food, you always turned it to school. Maybe it was because it was the first day and that I'd had a whole summer without your lecturing me about studying, but it really didn't bother me as much as it might have ordinarily. Instead, I merely smiled and nodded, and listened to you talk about the subjects you hoped would be broached during the year. Meanwhile, the crowd had begun to thin-out as students boarded the train, and we all three began to walk nearer towards the platform while you continued to list the names of the books you would have to check out of the library for further reading.

Back in first year, I would have been the first to refer to you as swotty, but as the years had gone by, I was the first to admit that you'd changed a lot from the eleven year-old I'd met on board the Hogwarts Express. Your studies were still extremely important to you, but Harry and I no longer had to confiscate your books to make sure you didn't overdo it. That in itself was a great accomplishment. 

"I think this one is empty, you two," Harry's voice came from in front of us as we made our way through the train corridors, and you stopped discussing alternate remedies for Bubotuber pus burns as we followed Harry into the empty compartment. I spotted Mum and Dad from the window and we all three gave them a quick wave as the train started moving, and as they slowly faded out of sight, we took our seats. Harry and I sat across from each other, but you stood for a minute as if deciding between us. When you finally lowered yourself down next to me, the surge of triumph coursing through my veins was huge. I could feel Harry's eyes on me; more importantly, I knew that if I looked at him I would see the laughter bubbling just below the surface, would see the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement. He was my best friend, but he sure could make a guy feel self-conscious.

"Are you okay, Harry? Your lips are twitching," you said from beside me, and I swallowed back the guffaw that threatened to escape my throat. Ha! It would serve him well for putting me on the spot back in the train station, and for finding such amusement in a situation that was perfectly normal. After all, we were all friends; in fact, we were all best_ friends. What was wrong with your sitting next to me in a train compartment when the only other empty seat would have been next to Harry? Honestly, the twins had corrupted him beyond repair._

"Er, I'm fine; I was just…thinking of something Fred and George did last night," he said, obviously lying through his teeth in an attempt to hide what he'd truly been thinking.

"Oh really, what did they do?" you pushed, and I swear if the earlier kiss hadn't shaken me to the core, I would have taken you by the shoulders and kissed you full on the mouth. As it was, I was just enjoying seeing him squirm, but even though he'd teased and prodded to no end during those last few weeks at the Burrow, I still held some sense of loyalty towards him and decided to come to his aid.

"You know Fred and George," I told you as my mind groped for something with which to elaborate, but my mind had drawn a blank the second you'd turned those caramel eyes on me. Thankfully, though, I didn't have to answer as the compartment door slid open. For a moment, I almost expected Malfoy to walk-in, flanked by his two henchmen, as he always seemed to appear at least once during our ride to Hogwarts, but it was only a first year who'd walked-into the wrong compartment by accident, and once he'd left we were alone again. 

"Didn't you bring any books with you?" I asked, not only in an attempt to turn the subject away from its original course, but also genuinely surprised that you weren't immersed in one of those thick volumes you'd been speaking of earlier. Looking at you more closely, I noticed for the first time the dark circles under your eyes, and you seemed a bit paler than usual. My brain seemed to choose that particular moment to rope my mouth into saying something ridiculously stupid: "You look awful," I remarked, and though it really was meant as a casual observation, I knew that it was a dumb thing to say to anyone.

"Well you sure have a way with words, don't you?" you replied icily, staring me down as you lifted your chin haughtily. I loved that chin and how easily it would fit between my thumb and forefinger.

"It looks good with your eyes," I found myself almost whispering, and the look you'd been giving me melted instantly as you registered the meaning of my words. I'd never given you that kind of a compliment before, never told you that you looked beautiful, never commented when I thought you looked nice in a piece of clothing, and here I was doing so in the most unromantic of places while our best friend looked-on in disbelief. Never mind that I had absolutely no idea where the words had come from in the first place, or that Harry was sitting across from me snorting as he tried not to laugh, I might have kissed you then, and I don't think you would have resisted. It seemed that the entire train had disappeared, and I could have sworn that our faces were moving closer to each other as if guided by some magnetic force. If it hadn't been for Harry (quite deliberately) clearing his throat, I might have kissed you, but as it was, I was glad that I hadn't because the way you'd turned your head to stare at the seat in front of you and the way your cheeks had suddenly turned bright red, I was beginning to become self-conscious again.

"You do look a little bit tired, Hermione," Harry said, obviously changing the subject and instantly renewing my faith in him. 

"I didn't get any sleep last night," you admitted with a sheepish grin, "I was too excited to go back, and I spent the entire night reading," you said, which explained why you weren't reading now; even you had your limits. I could have come-up with a comment about your studying, Merlin knows I had dozens floating through my head, but before any made their way from my brain to my mouth, you'd stretched your arm over your head as your other hand covered your mouth and you yawned, curling your legs underneath you. 

"Why don't you try getting some sleep?" Harry asked you, and I was glad it was he who'd made the suggestion as had it come from me it would have given Harry endless ammunition with which to tease me over the next few days. I could just imagine him telling everyone who would listen about how I'd been fussing over you when for the last five years I'd found every occasion possible to complain about you.

"I can't sleep on the train," you shook your head as you yawned again, and rubbed your eyes in a manner reminiscent of a small child ready to go down for a nap; I found it positively adorable. "Besides," you dismissed, "I don't have a pillow," you said, and I could practically see the gears in Harry's head turning. I'd be lying if I said that my first thought hadn't been to offer myself as a makeshift pillow, but at the same time I knew_ that if I did that, my reputation would remain intact for all of five seconds before it became common knowledge that I'd gone soft on a girl—sure, we were sixteen, and had long outgrown the age of cooties, but that didn't change the fact that if word had gotten out, I never would have been able to live it down. It would have been different had we been a couple, but as it was, no one even knew--except Harry who'd been walking around with a smug look on his face all month--that I'd even been considering that as a possibility for over a year, and I really didn't want to have to deal with Seamus, Dean, and Neville getting in on the action when just having Harry to deal with was already so close to driving me completely mad. As if reading my mind, Harry grinned what only I recognized to be a particularly mischievous grin (had he had red hair and been slightly stockier, he could have been one of the twins) and gestured towards me. My opinion of him immediately changed for the better when I realized what he was about to do._

"Just use Ron," he told you, "with all the jellied sweets he's been ingesting all summer, he's the closest thing you'll find to a pillow on the train," he grinned, and I felt the overwhelming urge to grab him_ by the shoulders and kiss him full on the mouth—well maybe not to that extent, but you know what I mean. After all, I was being volunteered by someone else, and never mind that I was more than willing to lend you my services, if word happened to leak, I would for all intents and purposes be in the clear. I tried my best to act normal, not to seem over eager as you seemed to weigh what Harry had just suggested in your mind, but when you were caught by another yawning fit, you seemed to have come to a decision._

"Do you mind?" You asked me, and I did my best to act nonchalant as I shrugged and smiled.

"Not at all; besides, you need the rest," I smiled, and you scooted closer to me. For a moment, neither of us really knew what to do, but after an awkward moment I lifted my arm around your shoulders and you scuttled underneath it, resting your head in the crook of my neck. I was certain that you could feel the rapid pulse at my neck, hear the beating of my heart in my ribcage, but you didn't mention it, and before I knew it, your even breathing told me that you were fast asleep. So much for your not being able to sleep on the train, I thought to myself, smiling. Of course, Harry happened to catch that grin and took it to mean something entirely different.

"You can thank me later," he grinned in front of me, and it was really the first time he'd been so direct in his comments about you, so in the spirit of things I decided to be just as direct in return.

"Oh, bugger-off, you," I told him, and he laughed as you slept-on.

A/N: The next chapter is the one you've all been waiting for—Ron and Hermione finally get together!! Of course, as this is written as a kind of flashback on things that have already happened, they've theoretically been together all along, but you'll actually see how it happened. Hope y'all enjoy.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N Hey, y'all; this is a bit of a short chapter; only half of chapter 4, actually, but I've been a bit swamped lately, so as per usual, I figured it'd be better to post what I did have so far rather than post nothing at all. 

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, etc, are the intellectual property of JKR; no infringement is intended.

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Chapter 4

I don't know if it's possible to reminisce about a moment as much as I have about that sixth year train ride to Hogwarts; until then, I'd always considered home to be school, or the Burrow, but afterwards, I knew that home was having you in my arms. I've thought of that moment on the train, analyzing and ripping it apart over the years, trying to come up with some reason why I didn't kiss you or tell you or show you how I felt, but all I can figure is that it just wasn't the right time—blimey, whoever thought I'd ever give a second thought to Professor Trelawney's drivel—and you know what they say: everything happens for a reason, and if I didn't kiss you then, if I didn't tell you how I felt then, it wasn't just because Harry was sitting right in front of us. If it had happened then, maybe everything else would have been different, maybe we wouldn't have lasted as long as we have, maybe our friendship would have been different, I'm not sure.

I still don't understand some of the more subtle nuances of our relationship; I don't understand why my stomach flops every time I see a head of brown hair; I don't understand why rainbows make me think of your smile, or how I see stars shining in your eyes; I don't understand how I can have so0 much love inside of me for you; I can't understand how someone so small can made me so angry, and most importantly, why the thought of bickering with you makes my heart thump in excitement.

__

We were all on edge with the promise of Christmas exams and essays looming above our heads. The weather outside was barely fit to step into: something about a small Spanish man kept popping up in the Muggle newspapers you insisted on reading. Quite frankly, I just didn't understand why you read Muggle news when we all knew that half the news stories in there were a fabrication or alteration to what had originated in the Wizarding world. Still, you always told me that I should keep my mind open and try to absorb as much information as possible, so, purely to get you to stop nagging at me, I was keeping myself from rolling my eyes by hiding my face behind the pages of the newspaper half you'd handed me while you read the other. I was in the middle of an article reporting a severe ice storm somewhere in Canada (but hey, they've got to be used to it) when I felt your eyes on me.

"What?" I looked up, paranoid at once, and subconsciously rubbing my nose with the back of my hand lest there be a spot of ink on it.

"You frown when you read," you told me, as though it was some exciting and mysterious fact you'd just discovered about me. "I just noticed that a few seconds ago," you continued, giving credence to my previous thought, and explaining the look you were giving me, but why such awe just because I happen to furrow my brows a little when I concentrate? It wasn't by any means earth shattering information.

"You've seen me read before, Hermione," I pointed-out, and your own brow began to furrow as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth.

"I know," you said almost dismissively, your eyes focusing on a spot on the rug, "but I just never noticed, that's all," you said, apparently thinking that it was everything but the cryptic, nonsensical answer that it actually was, and went back to reading your newspaper.

Maybe studying (or well, let's face it, lack thereof in my case) had been getting to me, but what had just transcended had seemed just slightly off-kilter from our usual interchanges; hell, it was just plain bizarre. Maybe studying had gotten to you too, and Merlin knew you'd started a full month ahead (which even I must concede to be a huge improvement as compared to our first five years). Now that I thought about it, though, you'd seemed off-center these past few weeks. Had Lavender and Parvati started slipping in your pumpkin juice? Or, maybe you were just going through those 'girl times' I'd rather not think of…although you hadn't burst-out crying for no reason or threatened to hex me and have Ginny help you bury the evidence as of late, so that probably wasn't it, either.

"Are you feeling all right?" I asked you, deciding to take the direct approach; I had enough to skirt-around with you that I wasn't about to add 'casual conversation' to the list.

"Fine, why?" you asked, not looking-up from your article. Wait, were you reading the sports_ section? Now I _knew_ that something was wrong, and the hairs at the back of my neck were starting to stand on end. My hand started inching towards my wand as I tried to make sense of what was happening._

"No reason, really. Hey, Hermione?" I said, trying to act nonchalant but also deciding I would test you before doing anything rash, "Where's Harry? I haven't seen him all day," I said, knowing full-well that he'd stayed-up late to help Ginny (they'd decided to became all chummy and friend-like last year, though I certainly didn't understand why my best-friend would want to befriend my little sister when he could have me…though somehow that doesn't really sound like what I'm trying to say with her Defense Against the Dark Arts essay and was probably still sleeping. If you were really_ who you said you were (i.e. Hermione) then you would know that too…of course, probably every Gryffindor would as well._

"All day? It's barely noon, Ron, he's probably still sleeping," you said. Oh, you were good, whoever you were.

"Yeah, probably. So, err," I searched for something to ask, something that only you would know, that no one could find-out through research, something cryptic and obscure, "have you talked to Vicky, lately?" Okay, so maybe it wasn't cryptic and obscure, but I was still curious. Still, though, I wasn't taking any chances and the fingers of my left hand had just wrapped around my wand when you noticed what I was doing. One minute we were both sitting, and in the few seconds that followed, we had both jumped-up and drawn our wands, now finding ourselves standing about three feet apart and having our wands aimed at each other.

"What are you doing?" you asked me. Well, now, that was fresh, wasn't it? You_, the sports-page reading Death-Eater in disguise was asking _me_ what I was doing?_

"I could ask you the same thing, but you can add 'who are you' to the list," I said, trying to get a sense of what had just happened.

"Excuse_ me? Who _am_ I? What about who are _you_? And what have you done with Ron? If you've taken Polyjuice Potion in the last hour he has to be around here, and you had better hope and pray that he's all right because you've hurt one hair on his head, I can promise you that I _will_ make you pay." Well, you sure did have the impression of an angry Hermione down to a science, didn't you? I guess they were making Death Eaters marginally more intelligent these days, though that sports thing had completely blown your cover._

Now I've read enough books to know that when in a confrontation of this sort, the way you speak to your opponent is just as important as the way you handle the situation. After all, one needs to have some sass, needs to show wit in order to demonstrate that one has brain behind the brawn, and the staple of any heroic figure is a witty comeback. I was still trying to come-up with the perfect comeback to your death threat and had even managed to think-up what I thought would be a really great one (though I was still working-out the delivery) when Harry came down the stairs.

"Harry, stay back!" I yelled, though there was a distinct female echo to my words, and I realized that you'd spoken the same words. It was then that I started having doubts over whether or not you actually were a Death Eater, or whether you might have just been genuinely interested in sports…..Nah! There was definitely something fishy going on!

"What the--!? What are you doing? Put those wands down right now!" Harry said, ignoring our warning for him to seek cover and actually walking further down the stairs. "What in the name of Zeus do you two think you're doing!?" Harry asked, and the grip on my wand tightened as I kept my eyes trained on you in case you made any sudden moves. Your eyes were locked on me as well, which struck me as unusual. After all, if you were a Death Eater, wouldn't you be jumping at the chance to get your hands on Harry?

"Stay back, Harry," I said, keeping my wand pointed at you, "that's not Hermione." I answered.

"Harry, don't listen to him; it's not Ron," you said, still keeping your eyes on me.

"Of course I'm Ron; Harry, she was reading the sports section_!" I enunciated, though neither of us was probably making much sense, because Harry just stood there looking at us as though we were both barking._

"Hermione, what was the name of the cousin of the General who lead the wizard army that defeated the Goblins during the revolution?" Harry asked, and you blurted-out some answer in the way you always do as though it was something that everyone was supposed to know.

"Ron, who was the Cannon's top seeker the year you were born, and how many snitches did he catch that season?" he asked me, and I rolled my eyes. 

"Well firstly, Harry, it was a SHE," I said, and he smiled because I'd spotted the trick, and proceeded to give him the stats.

"There you go, are you satisfied? Now would you both put your wands down?" he said, and I looked at you. You had_ answered that question only like 'you' would have been able to, but that didn't change the fact that you'd been reading the sports section of the newspaper…were you really that desperate for reading material? Had you already gone through all the books in the library? Of course, our wands were still aimed at each other._

"You put it down first," I said, and you shook your head.

"I don't think so; you put it down first."

"No way," I replied, but Harry walked right in between us.

"You both put the wands down together," he said, and we did. "Good, now I'm getting some late breakfast," he added, and moved towards the portrait hole, disappearing through it a moment later. We stood a moment in silence, gaping at each other, and you finally broke the silence.

"I can't believe you did that," you said.

"Did what!?" I asked defensively. If you hadn't been reading the sports section, it would never have happened, so theoretically, it was_ your fault._

"What do you mean, did what? You threatened to hex me!"

"Well so did you!"

"I was just defending myself! You pulled your wand out on me; was I just supposed to stand there and let you hex me!?"

"Well you were the one acting all bizarre! How was I supposed to know that you were just going through one of your moments?" I asked; my voice was becoming progressively louder as our fight became progressively more animated. We hadn't really fought like this in years, but it was bringing back a flood of memories, and I had to admit that part of me was kind of happy to see you with your cheeks flushed and your eyes shooting daggers at me.

"One of my 'moments'?" you asked, poking a finger at my chest, "One of my 'moments'?" you said again in disbelief.

"Yes one of your 'moments'. You've been acting weird for the last month; how the bloody hell am I supposed to know how to take you when one second you're happy and the next you're getting angry and poking me in the chest," I said, grabbing your wrist in my hand to stop the jabbing, "stop that, it hurts," I told you and your eyes darkened to a dark chocolate. You wrenched your hand out of my grip and turned towards the dormitory, yelling obscenities (well as obscene as they ever got to be coming out of your mouth) at me. 

"Well that's rich, Ron Weasley. That's really rich," you were saying, as you marched upstairs and I followed.

"Oh would you stop saying everything in double already? I hear it the first time!" I yelled, getting irritated, as you marched into the empty sixth year girl's dormitory where I followed you inside. 

"Oh you, you," you said, trying to think of something nasty to call me, and when you couldn't come up with anything, you walked into the adjoining washroom and slammed the door in my face. It only took a split second for me to make-up my mind, and then I followed you in; you whirled around in surprise. Apparently, the last thing you'd been expecting was for me to follow you. The shower stalls were empty, and I thanked my lucky stars for it; the last thing I needed was to have Parvati or Lavender squealing to high heaven. "Get out," you said, pointing to the door.

"No," I answered; following instructions had never been my strong suit.

"Fine, then I'll leave," you replied, trying to get around me, but I wasn't finished yet, and I blocked the doorway. "All right, then; you want me to stop repeating myself? Well here's something I'm only going to say once," you said, marching up to me and getting on your tiptoes in an attempt to meet me eye to eye, though you were still looking-up quite a few inches. 

Your face was so close to mine that I could feel your breath at the base of my throat, and whatever anger I'd had completely vanished and was replaced by something else—longing. I longed to grab your face and kiss you, to run my hands through your hair, to feel your arms move up and wrap around my neck. I wanted to wrap you in my arms and never let you go. Of course, that would be a little difficult with your telling me I was the worst being on earth, which was exactly what you were screaming at me right then (but with much larger words). I tried to listen, I really did, but your being so close that I could smell the soft scent of your hair and feel the heat radiating from your body, so close that I could see the flecks of gold in your eyes did something to me, and I snapped. I couldn't hear what you were saying, and frankly I didn't care anyway. For the first time in three years, I took control of my own destiny and threw caution to the wind; I brought my face down those last few inches, wrapped my hands in your hair, and kissed you with all the pent-up energy I'd held in check all this time.

A/N: Okay, so I'm evil leaving it off there, but hey, I never said I was nice :P The next chapter starts-on where this one leaves-off, if that's any consolation.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N Phew! I realize you've been waiting for this for a long time. They say that the older you get, the quicker time passes you by. Well, folks, I've got to be about a hundred and fifty, because these past few weeks have just _flown_ by. I just hope you haven't all forgotten about this lowly story, and just in case your minds are a bit fuzzy after all these chapterless days, I've included the last part of the previous chapter to kickstart those memories a bit. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, etc. are the intellectual property of JKR; no infringement is intended.

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Chapter 5

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"Get out," you said, pointing to the door.

"No," I answered; following instructions had never been my strong suit.

"Fine, then I'll leave," you replied, trying to get around me, but I wasn't finished yet, and I blocked the doorway. "All right, then; you want me to stop repeating myself? Well here's something I'm only going to say once," you said, marching up to me and getting on your tiptoes in an attempt to meet me eye to eye, though you were still looking-up quite a few inches. Your face was so close to mine that I could feel your breath at the base of my throat, and whatever anger I'd had completely vanished and was replaced by something else—longing.

I longed to grab your face and kiss you, to run my hands through your hair, to feel your arms move up and wrap around my neck. I wanted to wrap you in my arms and never let you go. Of course, that would be a little difficult with your telling me I was the worst being on earth, which was exactly what you were screaming at me right then (but with much larger words). I tried to listen, I really did, but your being so close that I could smell the soft scent of your hair and feel the heat radiating from your body, so close that I could see the flecks of gold in your eyes did something to me, and I snapped. I couldn't hear what you were saying, and frankly I didn't care anyway. For the first time in two years, I took control of my own destiny and threw caution to the wind; I brought my face down those last few inches, wrapped my hands in your hair, and kissed you with all the pent-up energy I'd held in check all this time.

I was crazy; I knew it, you knew it, and if Lavender or Parvati happened to walk in—which, knowing my luck, was inevitable—then they'd know it too. Of course, at the moment, my brain wasn't processing very well; in fact, it seemed to be stuck like a broken record (I had never fully understood that old Muggle saying, but I was definitely starting to see value in it, now) on one single thought: "I am kissing Hermione Granger…and she hasn't inflicted bodily harm yet." Indeed, if anything, I wasn't even half as surprised with myself for having finally lost control as I was with you for not having hit me over the head with a washbasin yet. True, you weren't actually doing much of anything: though my eyes were closed, I had the distinct impression that yours were open—to the size of saucers—probably in shock, or revulsion. I couldn't really decide which, but I was aiming for an amalgamation of the two: you were shocked at the revulsion you were feeling…or were you repulsed by your shock? Well, anyway, though I hadn't elicited a negative response from you, I'd failed to elicit any_ kind of response, and that frankly couldn't be any good either._

It also has to be said that while my head was sorting through a plethora of thoughts and notions, it was doing so at a staggering speed for, point in fact, not more than a split second could have elapsed since our lips had made contact. Kissing you was different from what I'd imagined it. It had to be said that I had never actually kissed anyone before—contrary to what I'd led the blokes to believe, of course. After all, I did have a reputation to uphold. Sure, Sally-Anne Perks had had a bit of a crush on me in fifth year, and had kissed me under the mistletoe at Christmas(which, as I remember, hadn't gone over so well with you), but surely that didn't count, and having your mother or sister kiss you was definitely_ out of the question. Still, it was bizarre to feel someone else's lips under mine. They were kind of…wet and squishy. Incredibly soft and sweet, yes, but the feeling was still foreign to me. Of course, it really didn't help that I could still feel you staring at me through my closed eyelids. It was your lack of reaction that made me pull away, albeit reluctantly. I didn't _want_ to let you go; I'd finally realized all my dreams combined for the past year and a half, and had effectively gotten over the pesky hurdle of how exactly to tell you how I felt. Still, feeling you frozen in front of me brought back terrible memories of when you'd been Petrified in second year, and that was no way to remember my, our, first kiss._

For a moment I was seriously considering the notion that maybe there was a Basilisk behind me—we were, after all, in the girl's toilet—and that you'd been Petrified again. Of course, had there really been a Basilisk behind me, you would have been dead, not really Petrified. Still, there you were, standing in front of me looking at me with wide eyes. I wondered if your lips were tingling as mine were then, and I saw the first sign of life from you when you pressed them together, probably to verify that what you'd just thought had happened, really had. I couldn't bring myself to say anything. I wanted to shout for joy, to apologize, to shake you back to reality, but I really_ wanted to kiss you again. Never mind that the thought was the most irrational I'd had all morning…and let's face it, I'd been having some pretty irrational thoughts as of late…I'd had a taste of how wonderful it felt to hold you in my arms, and I wasn't about to forget it any time soon. I especially didn't want to wait another two years before I had the opportunity to feel—this—again. _

The second sign of life I registered was when you blinked once, twice, your eyes going back to their normal size, though now your mouth was hanging open slightly, only reinforcing my desire to kiss it. I should have said something, I should have apologized for putting you through what was obviously a horrific experience, but it seemed that my breath had lodged itself in my throat, and even if I had actually wanted to say any of those things, I wouldn't have been able to. You were slowly coming out of your trance, and I closed my eyes, hanging my head in resignation.

"What took you so long?" I thought I'd heard you whisper, but of course that couldn't be right. What you'd probably said was "that was just wrong," or something along those lines.

"I'm sorry?" The statement was as much a question as it was an affirmation. Did I regret kissing you? Definitely not, but I did regret the fact that it had obviously pained you so; I was about to say as much when I felt the painful contact of your fist against my tricep. I was beginning to resent the fact that Harry and I had ever attempted to teach you to defend yourself in case of emergency, and especially so the fact that we'd taught you the importance of 'following through'. You might have been small, but you were also freakishly strong, and the welt that was no doubt beginning to develop on what had once been my arm was testament of that fact.

"Oh, get off it, Ronald Weasley," I suspected you were trying to scold me, but your voice had an oddly breathy quality to it.

"But I don't—" I began, though the words had stuck in my throat as you'd lunged your arms around my neck and had brought my head down, abruptly catching my lips with your own; "—understand," I pitifully finished when you released me. What was happening? I hadn't the foggiest clue, probably because my brain had ceased all functions. It was a wonder if I could even remember my name—I think_ that it started with an 'R'…didn't it?_

"Oh, Ron," you rolled your eyes, but you had a huge smile on your face. I have to admit that I'd been holding back the same smile since you'd just thrown yourself on me, but frankly, I was too confused to do anything other than state the obvious.

"You just kissed me," I said, and you rolled your eyes again, in that way you do when I'm questioning something that's supposedly so obvious.

"You kissed me first," you replied. Well gee, thank you for that, Hermione; that was just the most helpful answer you could have given me—honestly! What kind of cryptic answer was that!?

"Well I know that!_" I replied, exasperated, "but that doesn't change the fact that _you_ kissed _me_…just now; I was here, I know," I said. Obviously kissing you twice in the same day had done irreparable damage to my brain. Such a large surge of joy had short-circuited any ability I might have once had to form a coherent thought._

"Oh, Ron." You laughed it this time, that breathy, careless laugh that always makes shivers run down my spine, and makes my heart swell and the butterflies in my stomach go mad. You were still laughing quietly when you wrapped your arms around my waist and hugged me, much like the way a two-year old might hug a puppy. My arms instinctively wrapped around your small frame, and I tucked your head under my chin, smelling the delicate scent of your shampoo and feeling the softness of the brown strands against my skin.

"What just happened?" I whispered, closing my eyes and enjoying the moment…for I was certain that at any second I would wake up and find that it had all been a wonderful, wonderful dream.

"I think," you said, still hugging me, your head against my shoulder as it had been when you'd slept on the train. Again, I was certain that you could hear the frantic beating of my heart against my ribcage, but still you seemed to ignore it, "I think that you've just come to your senses," you finished, and I couldn't help it; I burst out laughing.

I could practically feel_ you frowning, and when you extricated yourself from my arms and looked up into my face, I was rewarded with the knowledge that I'd been correct in my assumption; of course, I was laughing too hard to revel in the knowledge for too long. Apparently, however, you didn't seem to find this very amusing because the more I laughed, the deeper that frown got until you had a neat little wrinkle above your nose, and your arms were stubbornly crossed in front of you._

"What do you mean, I've come to my senses?" I asked, and I could tell that you were holding back the desire to roll your eyes once again.

"Well it's obvious that you've finally realized that I mean more to you than just a friend," you said matter-of-factly. Only with us would a first romantic encounter be reduced to petty bickering of the sort. Though I was slightly surprised, I couldn't say that I was unhappy about the turn of events. Arguing with you like this brought a certain sense of comfort to an otherwise bizarre situation. After all, we were still standing in the middle of the girl's toilet and I had just kissed you, after which you'd kissed me. On both occasions, the receiving party had been too surprised to do much more than stand there, absolutely shocked out of their wits, and so we hadn't actually kissed 'each other' yet; but, if this was going where I thought it was going—though one must remember my inability to form a coherent thought, so who knew what was really going to happen—then I couldn't wait, especially when I considered the fact that if a half kiss could derail me so fully, then a full kiss would be indescribable.

"Well I think the truth of the matter is that you've_ just realized how you felt about me; obviously that kiss must have triggered some sort of reaction in you, after which you kissed me," I said. What were you on about, anyway? I hadn't 'just' realized anything. If anything at all, I'd known about my feelings long before you'd known about yours (and that _was_ what you were saying, wasn't it? That you had feelings for me in return? I swear, it's at times like these where I wish women came with an instructions manual, or at the very least with a mind-reading option)._

"Oh, come off it, Ron; you're just upset that I knew how you felt about me before you knew it yourself," you said, rather haughtily, and I snorted.

"Now that's where you're wrong, Hermione Granger, because I've known about my feelings about you for years_, and there's no way you could have figured them out, anyway; I hid them much too well," I replied, and it was your turn to snort—and as unladylike as it was, I have to say that it was also incredibly endearing._

"Of course I knew; you can't really think that I hadn't noticed," you said.

"Oh, you did not," I said.

"I did!" you replied, obviously trying to beat me at this new game of wits.

"Oh, really? Well if you knew, then why didn't you do anything about it, then? If you were so certain of my 'more than friendly' feelings towards you, why didn't you say anything?" I asked. Ha! Well, now, that would teach you!

"Well if you were so certain about the way you felt, then why didn't you_ tell me sooner?" you asked in return._

"I asked you first," I defended. So we weren't being the most mature about the situation, but I wasn't going to be the first to throw-in the towel on this one. I was much too stubborn to let you win a fight as important as this one.

"All right, so maybe I wasn't as certain as I may have led you to believe, but you boys are so complicated; it's a wonder you understand yourselves, let alone each other. Men should come with a user's manual, really, a book to tell women how to interpret their behavior." You said, and I was completely thrown that you'd given-up so easily, let alone that you actually thought blokes to be complicated; that was just laughable. Besides, you were always the one person I could count-on for a good bicker. "Oh, stop looking so smug already," you smiled, taking a small step towards me. "Now will you just kiss me again before I hex you for thinking me a Death Eater?" you grinned, your eyes twinkling, and it only took a split second for me to decide to drop the Death Eater comment, and oblige you.

And that was the start of it all; I still can't believe that we'd both been harboring these secret feelings for each other and that we'd never actually out and said anything until then, that it took me two years to finally break down and kiss you. Those were the first of what would be many kisses, but even over the years, every time I kiss you, I can't help but feel as if it's the first time. You still haven't lost that effect on me. I'd like to think that despite the difficult times we've been through over the years, the turmoil that comes naturally with growing up, the bumps we've encountered in our friendship, our relationship, that it was that initial hurdle that was the most difficult. It would be unrealistic for us to have gone through a lifetime together without having had to overcome difficulties; after all, life is just that, isn't it? A series of difficulties that one must overcome in order to move on. With you by my side, those hurdles were easier to overcome, and I'd like to think that there were less of them than I might have encountered had I continued-on without you.

If telling you how I felt was the hardest thing I've ever experienced, then telling Harry about us was maybe the next hardest. How do you tell your best friend that his two best friends are still his two best friends, but that they've become more than friends themselves? It's not that I thought Harry wouldn't understand, after all, he'd been giving me pushes (if not shoves) in that direction since the 'Viktor Krum incident,' still I just didn't know how to broach the subject with him. Maybe that's why we waited so long to tell him, I don't know, but at the same time, having that time alone with you, that time where we felt adventurous because we'd be 'sneaking away' to be by ourselves, that was an integral part of our relationship, and probably one of the fondest periods of my life.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N Hi folks, this is only the first half of chapter six; my updating speed has been pretty atrocious, and it's been practically an entire month since I've added anything to this story; I deeply apologize for this. Now that I'm at school, though, and that I usually spend my time between classes writing rather than doing what I'm supposed to do a.k.a. work, the updates should be coming more regularly now. For those of you who thought that the story was over with the last chapter, fret not; there's still plenty to come. This story recounts the first few _years_ of Ron and Hermione's relationship, and we've barely scratched the first few months. As the chapters roll along, though, you'll find the length of time that has passed will begin to get a little longer. Still, there are still at least a few more chapters to come, not counting the next one which should really be the second half to this chapter. As always, thanks to everyone who has responded and to those who have expressed a fondness for this story.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, etc. are the intellectual property of JKR; no infringement is intended.

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Chapter 6

There is something incredibly sexy about snaking away, unnoticed, to be with your girlfriend. Even as a teenager I thought so, and Every moment I could spend alone with you, hiding out in some dingy-dark corner of the library was always sheer heaven…with a small side of guilt. I know that Harry wants the best for us, and I also know that it was no different then, but still it felt really bizarre not to be able to tell him about you, not when for six years I'd told him almost everything about myself. It's hard to believe that you and I had been together for several weeks, two and a half months, even, before we told him…well before we _planned_ to tell him, because let's face it, the chap knew long before we ever said anything.

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Christmas time has always been my favourite time of year; there are those who long for summer, for sunshine and warm weather, but given the fact that the sun seems to make my already numerous freckles sprout new generations of offspring, I tend to avoid it if I can. Frankly, I never could understand why some would long for the kind of weather that makes them warm, sticky, and sweaty. Personally, I love winter.

Just like I revel at lightning storms in the summer, during the winter months I crave snowstorms. I love the feel of cold snow on your already cold skin when I kiss your cheek, and the beauty of a delicate snowflake trapped in your long eyelashes. Most of all, though, I love being indoors, huddled next to the fire as snow falls fast and thick outside the windows so that all you can see is a blur of white beyond the pane. Actually, I'd recently realized that it was also great weather for reading, something that would have escaped my notice completely if you hadn't shown me. It's true that since we'd become a couple, I'd become slightly more studious, but that was only because half the time you refused to kiss me until my homework had been finished—that was quite the incentive, let me tell you, and I never knew I could write a dreaded Potions essay so quickly. Of course, now that the holidays had arrived, the last thing I normally would have been thinking of would have been homework. On the contrary, Harry and I would have probably have been busy playing chess or eating sweets or exploring the school, safely tucked-away under the invisibility cloak, but no. Instead I was in the common room, on the first day of vacation, with everyone in Gryffindor Tower (save Harry, Ginny, Neville, one of Ginny's friends, and of course you and me) gone for two weeks, and what was I doing? Homework! I was hoping to get it finished before Harry saw me at it or he surely would have thought that I'd fallen ill.

"That's not…are you doing homework?" Too late. He sounded as mortified as I felt; yes, yes, so I was doing homework. You see, I knew that if I got it out of the way (as you were sure to do) that it would leave you and I a lot more time to spend together, and with no one around over Christmas, we might even find a quite place to snog a little—an activity we'd been doing much too little of in my opinion.

"As a matter of fact, it is," I replied, trying desperately to sound as though doing one's homework was a completely natural and acceptable pastime. Now don't get me wrong; I loved spending time with you just talking, sitting, reading, but I also definitely, definitely_ liked kissing you…a lot. A _whole_ lot._

"Why?" Apparently Harry had never kissed you or he would know exactly wh—then again, it was probably a lot better that Harry didn't understand.

"Is a bloke not allowed to do his homework, Harry?" I asked the lad, answering his question with a question. My spending time around you had made me an expert in being cryptic and difficult to understand—a trait that ran rampant among females.

"You've been spending too much time around Hermione," was his answer as he set himself beside me, taking one of my books from the table and leafing through it uninterestedly. I turned my head away from him lest he see the flush that had crept into my cheeks. I could never spend 'too much' time with you, but there was really no sense in letting him know just 'how' much time we'd been spending together.

"Well when you've only got one day left to do it, you'll be wishing you'd started sooner," and that statement was apparently funny as Harry had burst-out laughing.

"Now you're even starting to sound exactly like her!" He laughed, and placed a hand on my shoulder when his guffaws had subsided. "Is there something you want to tell me, Ron?" he asked, and my heart skipped a beat. My eyes grew wide and I fought not to stammer when I spoke next.

"Er, what do you mean?"

"You and Hermione…you haven't accidentally switched bodies or anything, have you?" he asked, and I let out an inaudible sigh of relief.

"Not unless Hermione walks down here talking about Quidditch," I replied, relieved that he didn't suspect anything, though there was a slight glimmer to his eyes that I couldn't identify.

"Well, you did catch her reading the sports page of the Prophet, once, remember?" Of course I remembered. How could I not? One doesn't usually forget the best day of his life.

"You have a point there, but she did say that she just wanted to understand what we were talking about when we discussed the sport," I pointed out, which wasn't so far off from the truth. That day, after we'd stopped kissing long enough to get me out of the girls' loo, I had asked you what you had been doing, reading about sports, and you had admitted that as I had been too daft to do anything about my obvious feelings for you that it was the only way for you to feel closer to me. "You know Hermione," I added dismissively, and he nodded.

"Yes, I know Hermione," Harry answered.

"Are you two talking about me again?" My heart skipped a beat as I heard your voice and I turned to see you walk down the staircase from the girls' dormitory.

It didn't matter how long we'd been together; every time I saw you, you took my breath away, and I found myself wondering whether I'd dreamt the past two months away. I still couldn't believe that you felt for me even an ounce of what I did you. This was no exception.

I was aware that you'd addressed us and that a response would probably be warranted, but I couldn't have spoken then even if I'd wanted to. Usually, when people talk about events that have passed, it has been my experience that whereas males will remember the end product, women remember all the details that lead to it. For example, if I were discussing the Yule Ball with Lavender Brown, she'd remember the kind of shoes that you wore with your robes and the type of jewelry you had on. All I remember about that night is that a) you were beautiful, and b) Viktor Krum is a great big bloody git, and I don't care how_ well he can play Quidditch. Seeing you walk down the stairs right then, though, I knew instantly that I'd always have a memory of exactly how you looked._

Only during Christmas vacations did we not wear our school robes and uniforms, and the only other times I ever saw you in 'normal' clothes was for a few hours on the Hogwarts Express and when you came to visit the Burrow in the summers, or when we met in Diagon Alley at the end of August. Even though I have to admit to very much liking the sight of your long tanned legs peaking out from under the sheer white cotton of your shorts, or the sight of your bare feet tucked daintily in a pair of sandals, the outfit you were wearing then blew them all out of the water.

You weren't wearing jeans, which I was accustomed to seeing you wear on weekends, but light beige pants that hugged your hips perfectly. Watching you shimmy down the stairs reminded me of all those times I'd held onto those slender hips while I'd kissed you, amazed at how my hands could practically wrap around you. What really took my breath away, though, was the jumper you had on. It was no Weasley jumper, that was for certain; it was made of what looked to be very soft, and almost 'fluffy' wool and the neck was like a turtleneck only all big and floppy like. Most surprising was the jumper's colour—a soft pink. I'd never taken you for the type to wear pink, but it looked magnificent on you. It brought out your eyes and gave colour to your cheeks. Your hair wasn't down as it usually was, but held messily at the crown of your head with what looked to be a pencil holding together the knot. Magnificent; you were absolutely breathtaking. The desire to kiss you was so strong that I'd actually stood up and taken about three steps towards you before remembering Harry's presence in the room and stopping short.

"You look nice, Hermione," Harry said, coming to stand beside me. You blushed, but I was practically outraged. Nice_!? That was all he could come up with? How dim witted was he if all he could say was that you looked 'nice?' Granted, had he said anything else I would have punched him on the nose, but still—was he blind!? Perhaps he needed to get new glasses. Actually forget the 'perhaps,' he _definitely_ needed to get new glasses._

"Thanks, Harry," you muttered, embarrassed, never one to know how to take a compliment though you did look at me expectantly.

"Wow," I finally said, really not caring at that moment how it might look. As you grinned and blushed again, having reached us, I gave-in to temptation and reached a hand to touch the wool of your sweater, feeling how soft it was on your arm. So many thoughts were running through my head…none of which you would have been too pleased to know I was having…and I knew that if I didn't get you alone, and soon, my heart would burst.

"Say, Hermione," I began, though to my ears my voice sounded like a bullfrog's. Memories of when I hit puberty came flooding back, and I tried my best to repress them, though I cleared my throat to rid it of the lump that had formed there at seeing how beautiful you were, and knowing that I had a part of your heart…and that you had all of mine. "Didn't you want to show me that Muggle book you were reading the other day? Didn't you say it was down in the library?" I asked. Honestly, I wasn't putting much effort in being subtle, but I just really_ didn't care._

"You guys go ahead," Harry said as if he'd been struck be some sixth sense…Professor Trelawney would have been proud! "I promised Ginny and Neville a game of Exploding Snap, earlier; perhaps I should go find her," Harry said, excusing himself.

"Okay, by Harry," you said, apparently oblivious to the effect you were having on me. Still, you followed me wordlessly out of the portrait hole, though I could feel the reprimand on the tip of your tongue. I'd taken maybe three steps before the pressure just became too much, and I turned around, scooping you into my arms, and pressing my lips to yours. It was like a breath of fresh air after being locked in a closet, like seeing sunlight after having been blind all your life. I felt my heart swell as I held you and wondered how I'd lived without you all this time. I knew then that I loved you, and that, perhaps, I always had. I didn't speak the words out-loud, though, I still couldn't bring myself to say them to you when I'd just said them to myself. 

When we broke apart, our foreheads pressed together, you nuzzled your nose against mine and I felt, rather than saw, your smile. When your hand found mine, our fingers curling around one another, I silently let you tug me in the direction of the library, a permanent smile adorning my face.


	7. Chapter 6ct'd

A/N: Hi, folks; yes, this is a short chapter, but only because it thoretically needs to be connected to the last chapter. Like I said, updates will be coming more regularly now that I'm back at school…and yes, I understand that the opposite should be true, but you don't know how much of a procrastinator I am :P

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, etc. are the intellectual property of JKR; no infringement is intended. The excerpt that hereby follows was taken from Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice" as is cited below.

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Chapter 6…ct'd

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"In an hurried manner he immediately began an enquiry after her health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better. She answered him with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, and then getting up walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began, 'In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.'"1 You were reading what you had told me was the 'greatest romance novel of all time,' and though I was surprised that you even read such things, as your lilting voice reached my ears and you continued, I started realizing how very much like us Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy really were. You might not have thought me too proud, or anything of the sort, but our verbal sparring could rival theirs any day. It sort of warmed my heart to know that you loved this book so much because at the same time, I felt as though it meant you had a special fondness for us, too.

'Us,' would I ever get used to the fact that we were finally together? That now, when I wanted so badly to hold you, or to touch you, or to kiss you that I could_. I was _allowed_ to. It felt so surreal and so wonderful all at once. I hoped that we would never end up as one of those couples who took each other for granted. The very thought made me sick to my stomach, and I held you closer, pulling you against my chest where you instinctively snuggled closer, and I tucked your head under my chin. I could smell the faint scent of petunias—a flower whose name, as a self-respecting man, I never wo9uld have known much less recognized if it hadn't been for Herbology—and breathed it deep. I closed my eyes, sighing, taking-in the moment. I'd come to love this dingy dark corner of the library where we sat on the cold stone floor, my back against the cold stone wall. You'd put a warming spell on the stones under us to spare our behinds from becoming numb; the lighting was poor in this corner, which was probably why no students ever came here. The light from your wand shining on the pages of your books seemed to shatter the darkness around us, casting eerie shadows to appear and dance every time we moved. We rarely snogged, here; in fact, we never snogged here. The library had always been our sanctuary, the place where we could go to spend time alone together (which was made easy as most students tended to avoid this place, and Madam Pince, like the plague), where we could generally just talk, and 'be' together,' where we didn't snog, but did, on occasion, share a few stolen kisses. I placed such a kiss on your temple, my lips lingering close to your ear._

"I love being here with you," I whispered, and though this was the perfect time and place to tell you I loved you, even though every cell in my body was screaming it, even if it felt absolutely right to tell you, there was still something deep in my stomach that didn't feel right; that hadn't felt right since we'd gotten together.

"What's wrong, love?" You asked me, sensing the doubts running through my head. Those doubts were partly assuaged when you called me 'love.' True, it was one of those terms that people used all the time as they would use 'dear' or, Merlin forbid, 'shnookums,' but the fact that you never called Harry, or anyone else for that matter 'love,' and the fact that you called me that in private always seemed to warm my heart.

"I think we should tell Harry," I whispered. We'd never come right out and decided that we were going to hide this from him, but at the same time there had been an unspoken agreement that we should keep this new relationship to ourselves and figure it out before we let anyone else know about it. Not Ginny or any of my family knew about you and me, and though I knew that I would eventually tell them about it, it really felt wrong, now, that Harry didn't know yet. He was my best friend, our_ best friend, and we'd shared everything with him for the past six years. We'd been through everything together, had gone through traumas unimaginable for people so young as we, and yet we'd managed to pull through because we'd had each other to lean on. I knew he would be hurt and angry that we hadn't told him, but in time I also knew that he would understand why it was that we'd had to do this._

You looked at me, staring into my eyes as though you could read my very thought, and when you smiled and stretched yourself up to give my lips a quick, yet soft, reassuring kiss, my heart quickened and melted. "Let's go, then," you smiled again, snuggling into my embrace one last time before shutting your book and getting up, offering me your hand.

"R-right now?" I stuttered, nerves instantly catching up to me. You only smiled again and reached down to take my hand, pulling me up.

"No time like the present," you announced, raising my wrist to your lips and kissing the racing pulse point, which only increased at the feel of your mouth. I took a deep breath and nodded as we made our way back towards the common room. We'd been gone for almost two hours, and Harry would probably be wondering where we'd sneaked off to, anyway

I had expected to have to look for him once we'd made our way back to Gryffindor Tower, and I'd also expected for it to be somewhat of a difficulty to get him alone long enough for us to be able to tell him, but my heart leapt in my throat when we crossed the threshold of the portrait hole and found him sitting on an oversized chair by the fire, in the completely deserted common room. He looked as though he'd been waiting for us, which he probably had been, and glanced up when he heard us come in. He smiled.

"Did you have a nice time, then?" He asked, still smiling slightly, "find the book you were looking for?" and his grin widened.

"Well about that, Harry, Hermione and I have been meaning to talk to you about something," I began, giving your hand a squeeze for support, thankful for the contact that kept me from completely losing me ne—oh my bloody hell, your hand; I was still holding it! I'd never let go of it since we'd left the library! And, judging by the way your thumb was lazily sweeping back and forth over my wrist, it could leave nothing to doubt. I began to sweat as I looked at Harry who had a look of fake innocence plastered on his face, and the corners of his mouth also seemed to be twitching.

"Whatever could this be about?" he asked, his amusement now very obvious. He knew!!

"You bloody bastard, you knew!" I exclaimed, my mouth dropping at the shock.

"Oh is that_ what this is about?" he asked as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "well yes, if you must know, I found out about that, _ages_ ago," he replied dismissively, now breaking out in a full grin, not bothering to conceal it in the least._

"Why didn't you say anything?" I asked.

"Oh, well I decided to let you have your fun, but if you must know, I've been quite peeved that you haven't told me until now. Very hurt, in fact," he replied, though it was quite obvious that he was cured of any hurt he might at one time have experienced. He'd moved on from 'hurt' to his 'lets torture them as much as I possibly can and see how much they'll squirm' stage.

"I, wh—" I was speechless, and apparently you were too for your mouth was hanging open—in a very sexy way, might I add—and you hadn't said anything yet.

"Just one favor, guys," Harry added," no snogging in front of me, all right?"

"Harry!" we both protested at once, partly outraged, though mostly embarrassed.

"We do not_ snog," you said in a voice that very much reminded me of our first year._

"Much…" I added, grinning as you socked me and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Now, now, both of you," Harry scolded, walking up to us and giving us both a hug. "What I want to know," he said when he pulled me down for a pat on the back, and a handshake, "is what took you guys so long."

Were you two in cahoots, or what!? Instead of answering, I tried to keep the blushing to a minimum and settled for looking down. I could feel your eyes on me, and when I looked up, you were sending me a look that very plainly said 'I told you so.' I loved you even more for it.

1 Austen, Jane."Pride and Prejudice." The Complete Novels of Jane Austen: Seven Great English Classics. Toronto: Penguin, 1996. 223-445.


	8. Chapter 7

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Chapter 8

Love is a sort of bizarre phenomenon, don't you think? It creeps up on you without even the dignity to make a bit of a ruckus so that you at least know it's coming. One minute you're perfectly content being friends with someone and arguing with them over trivial matters, and the next you've found yourself completely nutters over that person. It's even more bizarre, and more difficult, when you're allowed to kiss that person. Indeed, I'd taken all this time just to tell you I had feelings for you, and then I found myself having to tell you that I loved you. I realize, now, how irrational I was back then, for the main reason I didn't tell you straight off was that I was completely afraid that you'd reject me, or that you'd laugh in my face, or, worst even, that you'd listen to me tell you that I loved you and that pat me on the head like you would Crookshanks and say 'there, there,' as if I'd suddenly been caught with some mortal affliction.

It's hard to be a lovestruck teenager with a wonderful girlfriend, and a wonderful best friend, and feel as though you're trapped with no one to talk to. Indeed, how was I to know how to go about telling you this? I couldn't go to Harry because he was your friend as well and if we'd been sharing something in secret you would have known straight away, and you were the only other person I could ever see myself turning to, but really you would have been absolutely no help in the department as, after all, it was you this was all concerning. I found myself trapped in a corner, and it felt as though a thousand spiders were getting ready to pounce on me…it was not a pleasant feeling, as you can imagine. It's a good thing I happen to be brilliant, otherwise I might never have thought to go to Ginny for help. She was, after all, the only other logical choice, even if she was my sister.

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"What can you possibly mean you're in love with Hermione and are looking for a way to tell her?" Ginny looked at me with disbelief. I'd accosted her in the hallway after her Transfiguration class, and we were now whispering behind one of the many suits of armor adorning the hallway.

"Ssh, not so loud, would you? I don't need the whole world to know about it!" I replied. Ginny had a tendency to raise her voice when she was surprised, or when she was heating up for an argument. I loved her to death, for she was my sister, but at the same time I couldn't help but wish that she hadn't inherited that particular trait from my mother.

"Well what do you expect me to say?" Ginny lowered her voice…though anyone passing by could probably still hear her…and grabbed my arm right above the elbow, pulling me in further into the shadows. "Here I am learning that my brother is fancying his best friend, not only fancying her but is in love_ with her, and doesn't know how to tell her? Why don't you just start telling her you fancy her, first of all, Ron? I have great respect and admiration for Hermione, you know, and it just seems unlikely to me that a person of her intelligence could ever stoop to liking, you know, you." She said the last part jokingly, her duty as my sister to tease me endlessly, no doubt, but it did bring up a very valid point. You and I had been so good at hiding the fact that we were now together, and had been together for almost six months, that still no one knew about it. It was March, now, and we'd told Harry during Christmas vacation. How did I go about telling my own sister that I'd hidden something from her for just about the better part of a year?_

"Er, well, about that, Ginny," I started. I was squirming in my trousers, and she must have seen it. My sister happens to be a very intelligent witch; oh, she might not get your grades, but she has a kind of intuition that I often wonder about. This was one of those moments, for I hadn't even said anything, or even begun to form thoughts that might lead me to say something, for that matter, when her hand soundly connected with the back of my head. I looked at her incredulously, my mouth hanging open. Ouch! That had hurt!

"When exactly were you planning on telling me, your own sister!?" She whispered as quietly as she could, considering how outraged she must have been. "I can't say I never expected it to happen, but really, you and Hermione start seeing each other and you don't even have the courtesy to tell me about it? Does poor Harry even know or have you not told him, either?"

"Harry knows," I said, though I doubt it was much consolation to her. "Look, Ginny, I'm sorry I haven't told you, but Harry really only found out on his own, and Hermione and I were still trying to make heads and tails of things, but this feeling, it's been gnawing at me since Christmas, and I want to tell her, but I don't just want to walk up to her and tell her, and at the same time I'm afraid of even saying anything. Does any of this make any sense to you?" I asked, hoping for a miracle, for none of it made any sense to me.

"No," Ginny said, and my heart sank, "but it's not supposed to, you ninny," she grinned. "This is love_." She said…great, so that was the wisdom she had to share with me?_

"Tell me something I don't know," I said, miserably. 

"Oh, you great prat," she patted my shoulder. "Look, this is obviously not the place to be speaking of such things, and I've Herbology to go to next. Meet me after dinner in the Astronomy Tower, will you? I could use some help with my constellations, anyway, and you did rather well last year as I recall."

"I suppose, but," I interrupted, hoping that maybe I might have some immediate advice. The longer this feeling lingered unprofessed, the more I was worried I'd never be able to profess it at all, and that promised to be an even bigger disaster.

"No buts," Ginny smiled, giving me a quick hug—something she hadn't done since my second year, I reckon—and dashing away to her next class. When had my little sister grown up? As I watched her bouncing away amidst her circle of friends, I couldn't help but feel as though she'd changed somehow, changed for the better—she wasn't the shy girl who had first come to Hogwarts—that was true, and yet I didn't know why part of me felt sad over it. It was as though everything around me was changing at an uncontrollable pace, and eventually I'd have to change with it. What was most frightening was that maybe I already had.

~*~

I went up to the astronomy tower a littler early, trying to think over the situation I was in. Surely, Ginny was having a fancy old time laughing at me, right now. She probably found it very amusing that I'd had to turn to her for help, and the irony of my having to ask my younger sibling romantic advice when she herself was single didn't escape me. I just hoped she wouldn't take advantage of me in my time of need and make me do something stupid like make me dress up as a singing goblin, or anything of the sort. I was at a point where I might just have done it if I'd thought it might make things any easier.

Ginny met me a at seven sharp, and again I noticed that she'd grown quite beautiful. A pang of pride swelled my chest. No matter how we fight or yell, I really do love my sister. I always tell her she's my favourite sister, and she always rolls her eyes.

"That's because I'm your only sister, you dunce," she said now, after I'd greeted her with the familiar phrase. A moment of silence passed as she sat down on the stone floor of the open observatory. In the sixteen years I'd been her brother, never had we had an awkward moment though this was beginning to resemble one.

"How have you been?" I asked her. It seemed an unlikely question to ask your sister when she, for all intents and purposes, lived in the same quarters as you did, but, for the first time since I'd begun dating you, I realized how distant she and I had become though I knew neither of us had intended it to be that way. 

"I've been well," she answered, "busy with school, and I've been elected head of the 5th year class as unofficial planner of our next Hogsmeade itinerary." I couldn't help but notice a kind of sadness in her eyes as she told me this, and I instinctively felt that I'd something to do with it for that same pang of sadness now radiated through my own chest.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Hermione," I blurted-out but instantly felt as though it was something I'd been meaning to say to her for a long time. I was_ sorry, _so_ sorry I hadn't told her this. Ginny and I had always been close, being the closest in age, but lately we'd been losing that._

"You'd better be," she nudged me with her shoulder, a gesture that meant she forgave me. I nudged her back, and for the first time in a long time, it felt as it had always used to.

~*~

It was late by the time we got back from the Astronomy Tower, and when we entered the Common Room it was empty which meant you'd gotten tired and gone to bed. I'd left my chess set on a table near the fireplace—Harry and I were in the middle of a particularly gory battle, and the game had to be put on hold while we reevaluated our tactics. As Ginny said goodnight and made her way upstairs, I noticed the corner of a neatly folded piece of parchment poking from beneath the board. I picked it up and opened it, finding your neat handwriting gracing the page.

Ron;

I hope you and your sister had a nice time; I'm glad you had the chance to catch up. I got tired and fell asleep on Harry's shoulder, so now he's telling me I have to go to bed. I'm sorry I missed you, but I'll see you bright and early for our Transfiguration test, tomorrow. 

Good night!

Hermione

P.S. Kindly tell Harry, when you see him, that he is not the boss of me, and that I'm going to bed only because I value his friendship too much to hex him, right now. H.G.

__

I smiled as I read your note. To anyone who picked it up inadvertently, it would merely seem to be a note from one friend to another, but I could feel what you'd felt while writing it, and could picture you perfectly as you scribbled your neat handwriting onto the paper. You'd dotted the 'i' on your name with a tiny little heart, and that alone betrayed the feelings that your words failed to convey for fear that our "secret" would become known throughout the tower. I smiled and folded your letter, tucking it into the pocket of my robes as I headed up to bed. Ginny had been a great help, and I no longer felt apprehensive. I knew exactly how to tell you my feelings…all that now needed to be done was the actual telling.

A/N This is the first half of this chapter. I am _so_ sorry it's taken so long. I never expected life to be as drastic as it has become. I have not forgotten about this story, though, and I most definitely do mean to finish this. You're all just going to have to bear with me. I promise, promise, promise I'll try and update more regularly from now on.


	9. Chapter 7ct'd

A/N: What follows is an extremely short chapter because it actually belongs tacked-on to the last chapter I posted. Personally, though, I find this one much more scrumptious a read because there's plenty Ron/Hermione goodness to go 'round…and 'round, and 'round :)

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Ginny's advice had been simple. "Tell her when it feels right," she had said, "don't disguise it with frills and presents; those are the things you do to remind her you love her. When you tell her for the first time, let it be from your heart. It can't get any better than that." She'd made me feel infinitely better as I'd been worrying about how I should tell you for months, now. In a way I didn't doubt that you already knew how I felt, but I also knew that hearing the words said would only solidified my feelings. I think that what made me most afraid wasn't the part where I told you how I feel, it was the part right after, where you would theoretically respond with "I love you too." My greatest fear was that you wouldn't say it back, not because saying it would be expected, but because it would mean that you didn't actually feel what I felt for you. The knowledge that you didn't love me back even an ounce of how much I loved you would be unbearable for me. I guess I needn't worry so much because deep down I knew that you loved me. I mean, if you were actually crazy enough to date me, there was a strong possibility that you'd lost sense enough to actually fall in love with me. The truth was, Harry teased me about this every day, but I actually wondered whether or not it was true. What could have possibly attracted you to me? We were friends, and as friends we'd been perfect. I had wanted more for years, but then it was you we were talking about. How could I not have fallen in love with you? How could you ever have fallen in love with me?

I wasn't at dinner that night, having instead opted to sulk in my room. Harry would no doubt come looking for me soon, as it wasn't really like me to miss a meal. In fact, I knew I'd be regretting this when my stomach began crying out for food in the middle of the night. I never expected it to be you who would walk into the boys' dormitory, however. You looked pale, your face strained. My first thought went to Harry, and I got up abruptly from my place on the floor, at the foot of my bed.

"What's wrong, is everyone all right?" I asked, the colour probably draining from my own face as I asked the question. 

"What? Oh, everyone's fine!" you reassured me at once when you realized what I'd been thinking. "That's not it, I, well that is," you faltered, and I looked at you, a puzzled expression playing over my face. "Do you think we should stop seeing each other?" Your voice was shaking, as you asked the question, but it didn't even compare to the way my entire body, right down to my heart, had begun trembling. I felt myself slide back down to the floor, too stunned to do or say anything.

"I—is that what you want?" I looked up to meet your gaze, and saw unshed tears glistening there.

"No," you answered, "but isn't it what you want?" You sat in front of me, keeping your distance I noticed. Your question took me entirely by surprise. How could you ask that? How could you even think that?

"Where did you ever get that idea?" I asked, getting on my knees in front of you. A lone drop slid down your cheek, and I longed to catch it with my thumb and sweep it away with my lips.

"You've been acting so distant, lately, and you weren't at dinner tonight, and that's not like you. I just, it's almost as though you've been avoiding me, and I hate it, Ron. I hate it. If there's something you need to tell me, just tell me. If there's something bothering you, then just come out with it. I mean it, Ron, I don't like—"

"I love you." I hadn't expected the words to leave my mouth, but then I thought of what Ginny had said, how I should just speak from the heart and not disguise my words with gifts and frills. This was as honest as it could get, my kneeling on the cold floor, in the middle of the boys' dormitory, and you looking at me as though I'd just grown another head.

"What did you just say?" You asked incredulously, a smile playing over your eyes as another tear rolled down your cheek. I didn't hesitate this time, and wiped it away with a sweep of my thumb, pressing my lips to your temple and taking in the smell of your hair.

"I said that I love you, Hermione." It felt as though a giant weight had been lifted off my chest as I said the words again, and I took a deep breath. "I love you, and I've been going out of my head trying to tell you all this time, because the truth was that I was scared. How could I tell you how I felt, how I've probably always felt? It scares the hell out of me that I could care so much about someone and not know how that person—"

"I love you too." I heard you say the words, and I couldn't help the smile that crept over my face. Anyone could have walked into the room, but I didn't care. I closed what little distance there was between our lips and swept you in my arms. Had we been standing, I don't doubt that the desire to spin you around the room would have taken over.

"Say it again," I looked into your eyes, my heart swelling.

"I love you, Ronald Weasley," you said, and my world was finally complete.


	10. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, etc. are the intellectual property of JKR; no infringement is intended.

A/N: This is probably the second to last chapter in this story. I know that the next chapter will be the last, but depending on its length I might split it into two installments. I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who is still reading, and an even bigger thank you to everyone who has reviewed, in particular **sunshyndaisies** who not only is a great support, but is an awesome person all around; go read her stuff, it's truly amazing! Even though this story has taken me six whole months to post, it's heartwarming to see that you all stuck with me. You guys are the best.

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Chapter 8

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Things seemed to even themselves out a little after that. Hours passed, and days, and then weeks. The rest of Gryffindor remained oblivious to the fact that we were together, and I admit that I didn't dislike the fact. Quite honestly, it was no one's business but our own that we were dating: Ginny and Harry knew, and they were the only two who really mattered. The others would find out eventually, but it wasn't as though we'd planned on making an announcement of it. Exams were quickly approaching and for the first time in all my years at Hogwarts I was actually studying…voluntarily…as in without you telling me that I should. My grades had improved in every class since the beginning of the year, and I knew that the teachers were all secretly wondering what had come over me. The truth was that I, myself, had no idea what made it that I actually looked forward to getting marks back now, instead of dreading it as I once had.

"Can you pass me that Arithmancy manual, please?" You asked me, pushing your hair out of your eyes for the hundredth time and holding it in a messy bundle. You were resting your head on your hand and looked at me with an exasperated look, no doubt caused by your workload—which was rather heavy, even for you. We'd been at this for almost eight hours, and even I was seriously beginning to wish the day didn't look so inviting. The early June sun shone through the library windows, warming my back where it landed. I could hear students outside, laughing as they played. It was becoming very difficult for me to remember that I wanted to keep my grades up when part of me was reminding me of how this was a perfect day for a pick-up game of Quidditch.

"Do you want to take a breather?" I asked, all the while pushing the heavy book towards you, so sure was I that you'd want to keep working. 

You took one look outside, then one long look at me. "Absolutely," you answered, after a second's deliberation, your eyes having rested on my face. The fact that you were actually consenting to such an impromptu study break had taken me utterly by surprise.

"Are you sure?" I asked, and you grinned as you nodded. I was liking the look on your face more and more every second, and recognized what the gleam in your eyes meant: there never was_ a more relaxing activity than a little snogging in the broom closet. Even a pickup game of Quidditch didn't seem so appealing right then, and any thought I might have entertained of going outside were instantly pushed aside when you slid your chair away from the table, giving me your best come hither look._

It took me very little time to throw down my quill and follow you out of the library, across the entrance hall, and down the staircase leading to the dungeons (on our way to where I remembered the Slytherin common room to be located was an empty side room, which we'd discovered a few months before—the very same room Harry and I had caught Percy leaving, in second year, when he and Penelope had done very much the same thing that we were doing now). Looking around to make sure we weren't being watched, we quickly entered the small room, closing the door behind us.

"Hi," you smiled, turning around and lifting yourself on your toes to press your lips to my own. Your arms reached up around my neck as the length of your body pressed against mine, and my arms circled your waist, bringing you still closer to me so that no space existed between us: a sheet of parchment would not have been able to fit, and short of having been surgically sewn together, it was as close to being one as we could get (fully clothed, anyway). I returned your kiss fervently, shivers running up my spine as I felt the tip of your tongue against my lips, begging for entrance and I barely suppressed a low groan as I dipped my head to kiss you more deeply, every one of my limbs tingling at our proximity.

"Hello to you too," I grinned several minutes later, catching my breath, my arms still surrounding your waist. I thought I'd heard a small click behind us as I looked into your eyes, but quickly dismissed it as you kissed me again. Were my robes on fire, I wouldn't have been able to pay attention at this point. The faint scent of your perfume reached my nostrils and I sighed contentedly against your mouth.

"Have I ever told you how good you smell?" I asked, my eyes closed and my forehead against yours. You didn't answer and I opened my eyes, noticing that you were looking behind me, a steady blush creeping up on your startled face. For a moment I was afraid that Snape had caught us, but turning around—or at least turning my head, for I was still holding you in my arms—I saw that it was only Neville.

"Hullo, Neville," I said, not able to suppress a large grin. You had that effect on me. I just couldn't stop smiling when I was around you.

"Hi, Ron," Neville answered, his hands over his eyes. His other hand was flailing behind him as he tried to find the door handle and make his retreat.

"Anything we can do for you, Neville?" I asked as you groaned and buried your face in my chest. I grinned more widely.  
"Er, well, um," Neville stuttered, one hand still clamped tightly shut over his eyes while his other hand had located the door handle, positively twitching to turn it and make his escape from what was undoubtedly an embarrassing situation for the both of you. I, personally, found it absolutely amusing. "I was just wondering if Hermione could help me with potions, er, later, when she's, er, not busy…if that's okay with you, I mean…"

"Muffle, muffle," came your replay and I laughed.

"I think that means she'll see you at the library in a bit," I translated and Neville nodded from behind his hand and left the room as quickly as he could.

"I am so_ embarrassed," you revealed, your head still buried in my chest. Every time you spoke I could feel the warmth of your breath through the fabric of my robes. It reminded me of the warmth of the sun back in the library. _

"It could have been much worst, Hermione," I kissed the top of your head.

"How so?" you mumbled, and I leaned my head next to yours, whispering in your ear. Your head shot up, and I had to lift mine quickly to avoid losing teeth. You looked at me with eyes wide as saucers. 

"You don't really believe he thinks—he couldn't possibly—we haven't even—" and your head landed in my chest again.

"Come on, love. So Neville caught us snogging in an empty room. Is it really the end of the world?"

"No—yes—I don't know," you looked at me imploringly as though deciding whether to laugh or cry. You decided to do neither and instead hit me sharply on the arm.

"Ow!" I protested, rubbing the spot gingerly though it didn't hurt nearly as much as I made it seem.

"This is all your fault, you know," you looked at me reproachfully.

"What? How do you figure that?" I asked, frowning slightly. What was it always my fault?

"If you hadn't been looking so adorable, sitting there studying, none of this would have ever happened. Obviously you can't expect me to hold my wits about me when you're looking so pensive and—" you'd whispered the last word and I hadn't caught it.

"Pensive and what?" I asked. I'd long ago learned, before we'd begun dating in fact, that sometimes it was just better not to question you when you rambled like this, though I couldn't help myself this time.

"Sexy_ all right? You looked sexy!" you practically yelled, looking extremely frustrated. Heh, heh. Now you knew how I felt 95% of the time (that other 5% accounted for those very few hours of the day when I slept and wasn't busy dreaming about you.)_

"Oh," I answered, trying very, very, very hard not to grin the grin that I ever so wanted to grin right then. "Is that_ what it's all about? Hermione, Hermione, Hermione." It was too much; I had to let it out._

"Don't you smile like that at me. Don't think it changes anything," you said. I could tell you weren't really angry, because had you really been mad you wouldn't still have been pressed-up against me.

"Well I'm sorry if I can't help but smile when my girlfriend reveals to me how absolutely irresistible she thinks I am."

"I believe the word was sexy, not irresistible," you said haughtily.

"Whatever the word, you just can't keep our hands off of me, can you?" I teased, an you merely rolled your eyes in response, sliding your hands away from my neck, and crossing them severely over your chest as you gave me a grave look. I was not to be dissuaded, however, and I was still flying high over the 'sexy' comment. "You think I'm sexy" I smiled. "You think I'm se-xy" I repeated, elongating the word as I began dancing n the spot in a most silly manner. I could see the corner of your lip twitch and knew you were fighting hard not to laugh.

"Ron," you started.

"You mean 'sexy' don't you?" I winked as I continued gyrating nonsensically in what I called my "sexy dance" though others would probably refer to it as something resembling a seizure.

"Oh, dear; I think I'm going to go help Neville with his Potions work, now," you said, trying to go around me and reach the door. I stopped dancing and scooped you back up in my arms, instead.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on in my entire life, and I couldn't imagine loving anyone even half as much as I love you," I said, leaning down to brush my lips against yours, feeling them curve into a smile.

"Oh, Ron," you sighed, looking up into my eyes. I leaned down until my lips were near your ear.

"Now say I'm sexy again," I whispered, and you burst out laughing. "Oh, come on, Hermione, pleease?" You only extricated yourself from my arms and moved towards the door, though before you opened it to head back to the library you shot me a look over your shoulder.

"If truth be told," you said, a familiar gleam in your eyes, "I think you're a sexy beast" you winked, and left. It was several minutes before I had composure enough to follow you.

~*~

"Spend the summer with me." We'd just ended our last exam of our sixth year at Hogwarts, approximately eight and a half months after we'd begun dating, and were now walking towards the lake for some well-deserved rest from the studying we'd been doing all year. "What do you say? Harry won't be coming until beginning of August, and Fred and George aren't home anymore now that they have the store. Percy's always talking about the Ministry and Ginny has her own friends. It would be dreadful being alone all the time, and I don't think I could spend more than a day without you there."

"You want me to spend an entire three months of summer vacation with you? Ron, your parents must want to spend time with you, you know. I don't want to get in the way of that. Besides, I've barely seen my parents; I didn't go home for Christmas again, this year, and I know they want to spend time with me too."

"Then bring them along for a bit. I know Dad would love having Muggles about, and they'd feel closer to you if they knew more about the Wizarding world, wouldn't they? Please at least think about it, or do you just not want to spend time with me anymore?" I pouted, though the days where I'd felt so insecure about your feelings had long been put behind me. It wasn't that I was always sure, or that I never stopped to ask what a girl like you was doing with a guy like me, but at least I knew that you really did care for me, even if I did act like an idiot most of the time. 

"Oh stop it, you big baby. You know that's not it," though you gave me a quick kiss on the cheek nonetheless. Unfortunately for Neville, he happened to walk by at the same moment and, no doubt fearing a replay of the week before, immediately turned on his heels and fled in the other direction. I couldn't help it and let out a chuckle.

"Poor Neville," you defended, though you'd also begun to see the humour in the situation. "I wonder if he'll ever be able to look at us again without blushing."

"Well at least we know the lad can keep a secret. No one else seems to know anymore than they did two weeks ago…although, if you keep with the public displays…"I teased. You rolled your eyes.

"Oh, please," you said, "that could hardly be called a public display of affection; I've done more with Harry and id didn't count for half as much."

"Hold on, what exactly_ have you done to Harry?" I asked, though you merely laughed me off._

"Don't worry, Ron" you began as we reached the lake and sat on the rocky shore, "Harry is very safe from me and my non-advances. Besides, your sister would hex me into next week if I tried anything," you winked at me, and something in your voice told me I was missing something.

"Where is Harry anyway?" I asked suspiciously, but you merely avoided the question.

"Have I ever told you how sexy you look when you get all flustered and suspicious?" you asked, a clear indication that you were definitely hiding something.

"Is something going on between Harry and my baby sister_ that I should know about?" I asked, and you kissed my cheek again. This time Seamus and Dean happened to pass by and gave us a very queer look and I heard Dean calling out to Neville who was walking up ahead._

"Ron, I would love to spend the summer with you. If you speak to your parents first, I'll speak to mine."

"You're trying to change the subject, aren't you?" I asked, now aware that Dean and Seamus had accosted poor Neville and were pointing at us.

"Maybe, but does it matter?" you asked, and I decided that it really didn't.

"Does this answer your question?" I asked as I took your hand and pulled you close, dipping my head to kiss you deeply, the sun warming over us. Neville was no longer the only one to have spied me doing this, but it had ceased to matter the moment had touched. If they wanted to talk, I was at least going to give them something to talk about.

~*~

When you sent Pig to your parents, later that night, after I'd gotten word back that you and your family were more than welcome to stay at the Burrow, I must admit that I was more than a little anxious at what their response would be. It was true that we'd spent summers apart before. After all, you'd never stayed at the Burrow until you came with us to the World Cup. It was different now, though, because we'd only been friends, then. Best friends, granted, but communicating solely through letters is much easier to do when one hasn't yet experienced the other, more interesting ways. I suppose I should set things straight and mention that though we did our fair share of heavy-duty snogging, things had never progressed beyond that. I'd thought about it…probably more than you would have cared to know…but I didn't feel the need to go beyond what we'd done so far, not wanting to pressure you, but at the same time just being content in spending time with you.

Harry had been making himself scarce, lately, and though I knew that part of it was because of the undue stress we'd all been put through because of exams, the other part worried that perhaps we'd been too wrapped-up in ourselves and perhaps had given him the feeling that we were excluding him. I especially was just as important to me as our relationship, and I knew that you felt the same. I brought it up that night after he came up to the dorms. It looked as though something was wrong, as though he'd just had a hard go at something or had just finished running laps around the castle: his hair was even more mussed up than usual, and his cheeks were all flushed.

"Harry, what happened to you!?" I blurted at the sight of him. To my surprise, he smiled a rather large smile and began staring off into space.

"Oh, nothing; everything's brilliant. Why'd you ask?" he sat on his bed, facing mine.

"Well look at you; you look as though you've been run over by a Hippogriff! Listen, Harry, I know that Hermione and I…well, we haven't been there as much as we should have. I don't want you to feel as though things have changed just because we, you know," I finished lamely. I suppose that's why he was looking at me as though I'd grown a second head.

"What are you on about?" he asked, wearing a confused look on his face. "Ron, you, Hermione and I spend tons of time together. In fact, we spend as much time together as we used to, the only difference being that when Hermione goes off to the library, you go along with her. Even then I go with you eight times out of ten, but Ron, I can't take much more studying that that, and I don't really want to watch the two of you snogging in the corner between pages. Besides, I've been busy too with school, and Quidditch, and…other things," he said, getting that dreamy look on your face again.

"So you're not mad? You don't feel that we've been treating you horribly?" I asked.

"Don't be silly, you great be git," he answered, throwing a textbook at me and laughing. I joined him and was just about to ask him what he'd meant earlier about being busy with "other things" but before I'd opened my mouth you'd burst into the room.

"They said yes!" you exclaimed, dancing excitedly on the spot before I'd completely realised that you were even there. "Your parents wrote to mine and your father told them how interesting it would be to learn about their lives as ordinary Muggles, and I think they were rather flattered by the fact. I'm to go home Friday on the Hogwarts Express with everyone else and then we'll be driving down to Ottery St. Catchpole early Monday morning. Mum and Dad will be staying for a week—they're taking a week off from their practice—and then I can stay the rest of the summer!" you practically squealed--I too was jumping from excitement inside—throwing yourself around my neck and placing a rather loud kiss on my cheek, then turning around in your excitement, and doing the same to Harry.

"Hey!" I protested, but you simply giggled and kissed my lightly on the lips. I could hear Dean and Seamus protesting loudly in the corner, but I paid them no heed.

"Hi, Harry" you beamed as you sat beside me on the bed.

"Hi, Hermione" Harry chuckled back. "Have you gotten your marks, yet?" he asked you, and you nodded enthusiastically.

"126% in Charms, and I got top marks in Arithmancy and Tranfiguration as well. I was only second in potions, though, with 105%"

"What?" I asked, alarmed. Potions was our most difficult subject but even then you always manage to get top marks.. I'd even studied extra for the exam in hopes that I'd get a good mark. I'd originally thought I'd done all right, but if you hadn't managed to get top marks, then that didn't bode very well for me.

"Who got tops, then?" Harry asked, in almost as good a mood as you seemed to be.

"Ron," you replied, and it didn't sink in. I thought you were addressing me.

"Yes?" I answered, rather dimly.

"No, Ron, you got top marks in potions! I looked at your mark and you got 110%!"

"You're joking," I answered, in shock.

"I never joke about grades," you beamed proudly; it was true, you never did_ joke about grades._

"Well this calls for a celebration!" Harry clapped me on the back, conjuring up some butterbeer as a great smile slowly appeared on my otherwise very shocked face.


	11. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, etc. are the intellectual property of JKR; no infringement is intended.

A/N: Yes, as you might be able to read, this is the last chapter. _However_ I've good news for those of you who actually didn't want this to end. Though this is the last 'chapter' it's much too long to include in just one part. I realized this fact as I got about halfway through writing it (it's still not completely done) and had about twenty pages of hand-written material in front of me. Sooo… this part is only the first half (possibly even third) of what in its entirety would be the last chapter. That means that there's at least one more part coming after this and possibly two. Enjoy!

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Chapter the Last

Why am I writing about a summer that we spent together when everything I've written so far has covered the milestones of our relationship? After all, nothing earth-shattering happened in those three months; life continued as normal, and so did we. No, nothing earth-shattering might have happened during that summer at least as fear as you ever knew. For me, though, it was the summer that changed my whole life, and you'll soon see why I'm writing about this. After all, it has everything to do with the reason I started writing this journal in the first place.

__

Three days; it would be three whole days before I would see you again.

"Well, theoretically, it's two and a half because she's driving down on Monday morning," Ginny pointed out. She was sharing the train car with the three of us. This on its own failed to alert me to anything being amiss, as I was too busy feeling sorry for myself, but she usually traveled with the other Gryffindors in her year.

"Three days!" I whined, ignoring what my sister had just said, burying my head in your hair. 'Hermione, how am I supposed to last three days?"

"Ron, at least you get to see me all summer after that. Other couples might not be so lucky," you said, slightly subdued, and I thought you threw a glance across the way at Harry.

"I'm going to go get a glass of water," Ginny announced, her voice sounding slightly choked—I assumed her throat was dry—and left the compartment.

"I think I'm going to do the same," said Harry—the first words he'd said on the trip so far. Granted we'd barely left Hogsmeade, but he'd been quiet as we'd waited at the station, too. End of year was always a gloomy time for Harry as it meant going to live with the Dursleys.

"It must be tough for him, going to live with those dreadful Muggles. Maybe he can come to the Burrow early this year," I said, and you nodded though your mind seemed to focus on something else as you watched him leave the compartment.

"Poor Harry; he has a lot on his plate right now," you said as you snuggled into my side, resting your head on my chest and closing your eyes as you relaxed against my side. I did the same and reveled in the moment. Your words came back to me and for some reason it felt as though you you'd been talking about two things at once when you'd lamented Harry's dilemma. I didn't have a chance to question you on it, however, as Harry and Ginny walked back into the compartment together, then.

"That was quick," I remarked, for they'd barely been gone a few minutes, it seemed. They both gave me meek little smiles as they sat back down on the other seat, Harry staring pensively out of the window and Ginny wringing her hands in her lap, looking downwards. Had I not been so wrapped-up in myself right then, I probably would have noticed that Ginny's eyes were rimmed with red as though she'd been crying, but I was still thinking about how I was going to survive three days—all right, two and a half—without seeing you.

"How about a game of Exploding Snap? Girls against boys?" you suggested. You'd straightened in your seat when my sister had walked in with Harry. I supposed it was residual instinct from back when all of Gryffindor didn't know we were dating and we'd sometimes had to quickly move apart.

Ginny pulled out a pack of cards that Fred and George had sent her on her birthday in April. I only hoped it wouldn't turn any of us into any weird object, but my concerns remained unvoiced as you and Harry traded seats. Seven games of Exploding Snap, two giant toads, four canaries, and one ton-tongue later, the sky had darkened outside the window and both Harry and Ginny had fallen asleep, having resumed their original positions on the seat across from us. As the train's normal movements hook the car from side to side, Ginny's head slid onto Harry's shoulder and I watched him shift in his sleep so that soon he was resting his cheek on top of my sister's head. I couldn't help but smile at the thought of Ginny's reaction if she were to wake and see the position she'd ended in with a boy she'd once had a very obvious crush on. She'd obviously gotten over her awkwardness towards Harry, however. They'd made friends the year before, and during the course of the trip I'd seen how comfortable they seemed with each other—almost as comfortable as we were, in fact—and then something hit me.

"Hermione, does Harry have a girlfriend!?" I asked you. It would have been very bizarre for him to start seeing someone without having told me, but it would explain a lot: the dreamy look, his "other things" comment a few nights before, and why he'd been looking so forlorn all trip.

"What?" you asked, and I realized that you too had been sleeping and probably hadn't heard my question.

"Ssh, don't worry about it, love," I whispered, ushering you back to sleep. If he hadn't told me he probably hadn't told you either, and if he hadn't told me it was probably because he thought I wouldn't approve—which could only mean one thing. He was dating someone horrendous like Padma Patil or Millicent Bulstrode (though I gave him more credit than that). Whatever the case…and the girl...I was going to make it my duty to find out who it was (when I wasn't busy snogging you, of course, which really wouldn't leave me much time in a day).

~*~

I'd fallen asleep too during the trip, and woke up only too soon to realize that we'd reached Kings Cross. A look out of the window revealed my parents. As Ginny and Harry rose (they must have awakened after I'd fallen asleep) I shook you lightly to wake you up.

The goodbye was slightly awkward. Harry and Ginny had dallied back in the train and emerged slowly together while you and I stood in a corner of the station, talking. I wanted desperately to kiss you goodbye, but at the same time, I must admit that doing so in front of my parents was much different than doing so in front of Neville, Dean, and Seamus.

"I'll see you on Monday, all right?" I said, pulling you into a tight hug which you returned just as tightly. I held you for a full minute before reluctantly letting go of you. Ginny and Harry were talking to Mum, both looking tired and drained. I saw Harry squeeze Ginny's shoulders as he said goodbye and he walked towards us.

"Are you ready to go, Hermione?" he asked you, his voice still choked up slightly from his nap. Your parents would be waiting outside, unable to cross the barrier, and you would probably be dropping him off at the Dursleys as they were very unlikely to bother themselves in picking him up.

"Yeah," you answered, giving me a parting smile after Harry and I had hugged (a most manly hug, of course) and promised to write when we got home. I told him that I would talk to my parents to see if we might be able to have him come earlier, and he seemed to brighten at the thought. As I watched the two of you walk back through the barrier, I looked at my watch. Only 60 hours until I would see you again.

~*~

I fancy myself a relatively caring and empathic bloke. I wouldn't win any sensitivity awards, nor would I want to, but most of the time, if you or Harry are upset I can pick up on it immediately. I suppose it would come from having known each other for so long. The same thing, then, goes doubly for Ginny as I've known her all her life—16 years of mine. 

In second year when she'd tried to tell Harry and me about the Chamber, I knew instinctively that something bad was going on even after Percy had thought that she'd been referring to him and Penelope. This, however, was not to be one of those times where I would instinctively know that something was bothering her and instinctively know what that thing was. I knew that she was upset about something, and part of me was vaguely aware that it was relatively serious. She'd locked herself in her room the moment she'd arrived, and on my way to my own room I thought I'd heard muffled sobs coming from behind her door. I'm ashamed to say that my hand was frozen in mid air, ready to knock and comfort t her as any older brother should have done, but a look at my watch told me that it had been two hours since I'd left you, and I wanted to owl you to say goodnight. I dropped my hand to my side and told myself that Ginny probably just missed Hogwarts and her friends. Instead of opening the door, I continued on to my bedroom, where Dad had magicked my trunk and Pig flew around in circles in his cage, getting dizzy and crashing before beginning all over again, making me smile and shake my head at him before I opened it to let him free. I loved the feathery git even if he was_ out if his mind. I ignored the fluttering of wings above my head as I sat to write._

Dear Hermione,

Only 57.5 hours until I see you again. I'm going out of my mind already (though you must be used to it).

Dying to kiss you goodnight;

All my love,

R.W.

__

Short and sweet (like you), the letter was tied to Pig's leg and I gave him a piece of treacle fudge before letting him out of my room. Taking a piece of fudge for myself, my eyes practically watered at how sweet it was and I began to wonder if maybe taking Pig off his high-sweets diet might calm him down a little. Of course, the thought had entered my head for barely a second before I'd decided that taking anyone off sweets as cruel and unusual punishment and I quickly rid myself of the notion. Instead, I stripped down to my jeans, kicked-off my shoes and socks, and lay on my bed, watching the Cannons in their never-changing blue sky, waiting for your reply. 

I must have drifted to sleep as I waited for I dreamed of you. When I opened my eyes it was light out and Pig was sleeping on my chest, his head tucked into my neck. He was the only bird I knew who slept on his back and he hooted softly in his sleep, your letter still tied to his leg. I ran my finger affectionately along his feathers, untying your letter and placing him on my pillow. Though I tried not to wake him, he opened one eye.

"Hoot?" it sounded like a question to me.

"Go back to sleep; I don't have anything for you yet," I said softly, and to my surprise he did…closing his eyes and hooting in what must have been owly snoring.

I could barely contain myself as I opened your letter. Had anyone seen me, he or she might have thought me a five-year-old, opening his Christmas presents.

Dearest Ron, _(your reply read)_

Are you really counting down the hours? You know what they say about a "watched pot" don't you? Regardless, you officially owe me one goodnight kiss made payable Monday, under the moonlight, in your yard.

Miss you already,

Hermione

__

You'd dotted your 'i' with a heart again and I couldn't help but press my nose to the letter, inhaling deeply as though it might hold traces of you which, inexplicably, id did. Taking another deep breath, I carefully placed the letter in my desk drawer along with every other single letter you'd ever sent me (I'd kept all of Harry's too, though his tended to get thrown in the drawer whereas yours were always neatly stacked and bundled together). Shutting the drawer and realizing that I was still wearing last night's jeans (the shirt, shoes, and socks lay on the floor by my bed) I padded my way, barefooted, to the bathroom which was thankfully unoccupied, and turned on the taps, turning the water as warm as it would go before it became scalding. I stepped under it, letting the hot spray wash over me as clouds of steam hugged my form and escaped over the shower curtain into the small room beyond.

I was rejuvenated when I walked down the stairs and stepped into the kitchen, several minutes later. The smell of pancakes and ham rounds wafted up to greet me, and my stomach instantly growled. At school I usually made due with a bit of marmalade toast but I knew Mum would never have that pass on my first day back and I looked forward to reliving my mother's delicious home cooking.

"Ah, Ron, you're up," Mum greeted me, placing a heap of food on my plate which I graciously accepted.

"'nks m'm" I said with my mouth full. Ginny had also come down from her room and was sitting across from me. Unlike I, however, she had barely touched the food in front of her and I noticed for the first time how pale and drained she looked, as though she'd barely slept all night.

"You okay, Gin?" I asked between mouthfuls.

"Fine," she replied, giving me that same meek smile she'd given me on the train last night; the same smile Harry had given me as well. I began to cough uncontrollably as I swallowed a piece of pancake the wrong way.

"Chew, son, chew," my father said, clapping me on the back as my mother rushed over and lifted my arms over my head. Finally catching my breath and wiping at my water eyes, I peered across the table at my sister, who'd barely uttered a word. The signs definitely fit; in fact they looked to be the same as Harry's and if that had meant that my best mate had a girlfriend, it could only mean that my sister had a boyfriend. Neither of them had mentioned a single thing to me and as you hadn't said anything I gathered that they'd said nothing to you either. At first, with Harry, I'd thought he'd failed to mention his relationship because he was dating someone I otherwise wouldn't have approved of, but now through my superior powers of denomination I'd found that both Harry and Ginny were seeing people and neither had mentioned anything. They were obviously hiding their relationships purposely and they could only be doing it for one reason. I was shocked! I was outraged! They were obviously getting back at us for hiding our relationship from them!!

Well! I was insulted, frankly! But my offense quickly dissipated as my mother put more food in front of me and instead of a reproachful look, I gave Ginny a reassuring smile as she looked back at me. Being lonely was never fun. In fact, being lonely felt incredibly…lonely. Knowing that blowing up at Ginny would only make her more upset than she was, I decided not to say anything for the moment…though the second her spirits had improved I would never let her live it down, just as she and Harry had made certain that you and I had suffered through our share of kissy faces, the brunt of which we'd experienced once Harry had found out that Ginny knew and they'd decided to join forces. Once you got here, and once Harry got here, it would be our turn to let them have it. I still had no idea who it was that Harry could possibly be seeing, but I had a strong suspicion about Ginny's beau.

Ginny and Colin Creevey had always been good friends—their mutual admiration of Harry in the early years had made it an almost certainty that they would hit it off—and I remember having heard Ginny telling her friend (Rose or Hyacinth or other) that she suspected Colin fancied her last year. I'd thought nothing of it at the time for it seemed to me—no matter how much I disliked the thought of it—that a lot of blokes seemed to be taking a notice to Ginny. Of course, I would strangle anyone who came close to her, but Colin was a nice enough fellow…even if he had tried to photograph me belching slugs that one time. I thought all this as I shoveled more food into my mouth and when Ginny excused herself from the table, Mum didn't even make a fuss about her having barely eaten. Dad looked up at her, his eyes dancing across the room to meet Mum's. It always amazed me to look at them when they were in the middle of this type of silent communication.

"Remember, Molly, when we had to spend our summers apart? I used to mope around the house for days," my father reminisced and it was hard to think of them as ever having been our age.

"Yes, poor Ginny," my mother agreed and on a completely unrelated note continued with "perhaps we should owl Dumbledore and convince him to let Harry come early again," she suggested. I failed to see the relevance between Harry coming over and Ginny being lovesick but ignored it as I jumped in.

"Mum's right, Dad. Harry's miserable at the Dursleys. You should have seen him on the train yesterday. He looked almost as bad as Gin, I reckon."

"Well yes, of course he would," my Dad started and out of the corner of my eye I noticed Mum throwing him a pointed look, "feel horrible about the prospect of spending time with his, er, family. I'll write to Dumbledore from the office and see what I can do," he finished, and I beamed my thanks at him before running up to my room.

It was a mess. Well actually, to my standards it was quite clean, but to you it would have been a disaster. Though I'd often protested that it was easier for me to find things in a messy room (as my messes were "organized") than it was in a clean room, I was willing to compromise this once. Picking up the dirty clothes I'd thrown on the floor the night before and this morning, I brought them downstairs to Mum, who looked at me as though I'd grown a second head.

"I know, I know," I explained—I wasn't exactly known for being neat around the house—"I wouldn't get used to it, Mum, but seeing as Hermione is coming on Monday I thought…" I trailed off, not really feeling like explaining myself. Mum didn't seem to mind, though. She simply gathered-up my clothes and pressed a kiss on my cheek (she might have been aiming at my forehead but she couldn't reach that far up).

"I've always liked Hermione," she said, giving me a secret smile. I felt the blush creep up my neck. Though I'd never come right out and told them that I was dating you, this was the closest either of my parents had come to acknowledging that they knew about our relationship. Feeling only slightly embarrassed but elated nonetheless, I returned to my room to finish the task of making it presentable for when you and your parents would arrive.

~*~

I was in a bad way. The physicality accompanied with cleaning one's room had temporarily made me forget about how much I missed you already, but having cleaned for hours on end, cleaned until my hands were raw (for there was no magic to be used) and until I'd developed a slick coating of sweat and dirt over every exposed inch of skin on my body, I was suddenly hit with that dull ache in the pit of my stomach and that longing to see you accompanied with the disappointment of knowing that I couldn't…at least not yet. My first instinct was to send you an owl but I'd let Pig outside an hour before when the dust level in my room had become unbearable for him. A shower also seemed appealing but I could hear the water running in the loo. Looking out my window and across the fields, my eyes fell on the pond in which we'd gone swimming when we were little. It would still be near frigid this time of year…jus what I needed, actually. 

Making a snap decision I made my way down the stairs, across the kitchen, and through the bush surrounding the pond, dropping articles of clothing along the way until I was left in my orange Cannons trunks, jumping in the water and causing a large splash as I hit the surface. Coming back up, I caught my breath and stood (the water was deep even at the edges and reached almost up to my mouth whereas the water towards the middle went several feet above my head). Remaining in the shallow parts I felt the mud between my toes as I let the cod water surround me. It was both refreshing and relaxing…and oxymoron of sorts I suppose, but regardless it was true. 

Flipping onto my back, I let myself float and closed my eyes as images of you flickered behind my eyelids. I would have been content to float there forever, thinking about you, but soon I heard my mother's voice bidding me o come eat dinner and I gathered my clothes in my arms along the way, leaving water to trail behind me as I made my way aback to the house.


	12. Chapter the Last

A/N: This is the last chapter, all; I guess this is where I tell you how great all your reviews have been and how I probably wouldn't have continued writing this had the response not been so great (especially considering that it was only supposed to be a one-shot little ficlet). Anyway, you guys have all been wonderful, and as always I'd like to thank **sunshyndaisies** for being a great friend and inspiration and I would also like to thank **Julephenia** for her awesome reviews which always made me smile. Here's to hoping my next fic is this successful.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, etc. are the intellectual property of JKR; no infringement is intended.

****

Chapter the Last

Dear Hermione,

Why do _I_ owe _you_ a goodnight kiss? I do believe that you've confused things as it is, in fact, _you_ who owe _me_ a goodnight kiss. Actually, counting your absence tonight you will owe me three goodnight kisses, three good morning kisses, 10 'just because' kisses, and a total of 578 'you're too sexy, I can't help myself' kisses. So pucker up, because I expect your debt to be paid at your earliest convenience (which by my continued calculation lies a mere 13 hours away). I recommend the cherry-flavoured lip lacquer…it's my favourite.

I love you,

Ron

__

It was here! It was finally here! Opening my eyes on Monday morning I was instantly awake as I realized that after three days of excruciating suffering I was finally to be rewarded with your presence for the rest of the summer. I couldn't wait; had it really been Christmas and had I actually been five years old again, I don't think I could have been more excited. Breakfast proved me wrong, however, as the elation brought by your impending visit was only punctuated by Dad's news that he'd received a letter from Dumbledore.

"After explaining the situation to him," Dad said, and he seemed to be addressing Ginny for some reason, "he's agreed that it might be best—if not for Harry's safety then for his morale—if he came early. He'll be arriving after Mr. and Mrs. Granger leave next week," he said. What situation?_ I asked myself. Dumbledore had always been aware of the Dursleys' reaction to Harry…oh well, it really didn't matter. You were coming in a matter of hours and Harry was coming almost two months early. Even Ginny seemed to be in a better mood…she was smiling and seemed to have gotten her appetite back. This was good._

The morning went by unbearably slowly as I waited for you and your parents to get here. A thousand and one scenarios seemed to run through my head: what if you got lost? What if your parents had decided not to come after all? What if you'd decided you'd rather spend the summer in Bulgaria? I admit that my thoughts weren't making much sense, but paranoia is a normal reaction when one's girlfriend is supposed to come visit for the summer.

"Would you stop pacing, big brother? You're going to wear a hole in the floor," Ginny appeared behind me, looking cheerier than I'd seen her all weekend. I might have liked her better when she was depressed.

"Where have you been all morning?" I asked her, " I haven't seen you since breakfast." Ginny's eyes widened a bit at the question, as though she'd been cornered.

"Just writing a friend," she told me, her cheeks taking on the slightest tinge of pink; she'd obviously been writing her boyfriend_._

"That reminds me; I should write to Harry and tell him the great—" I stopped short mid-sentence. Inexplicably, Ginny's cheeks flushed even more at Harry's mention. Maybe she wasn't as over her crush on him as I'd originally thought although it certainly wasn't fair to Colin to have his girlfriend fancying someone else…although I suspect Colin fancies Harry himself.

"I can do it if you want; I need to send out some owls anyway," she offered and I narrowed my eyes at her. She didn't seem anxious as much as she did nervous…nervous about Harry? No, nervous about me in regards to her and Harry. A crazy thought popped into my head, then. Ginny and Harry—Harry and Ginny? I laughed out-loud at the absurdity of it all and she gazed at me questioningly.

"For a second I almost thought…" I began, "…never mind, it's too funny to even think it," I replied, still laughing. Phew! That had been one completely crazy, unfathomable, impossible scenario. Instead of questioning me further, Ginny merely shook her head and went upstairs to tend to her letters. I might have been tempted to go up to my room and keep a lookout for you from Fred and George's window if I hadn't heard the sound of an engine, then.

"Mum!" I yelled, "they're here!" I could barely contain my excitement as I ran outside to wait for your car to make it down the lane, finally stopping in front of the Burrow.

Your parents were staring out of the windscreen, twisting their heads to the side to get a better look at the Burrow. Their looks were ones of amazement and pure glee as they appraised the house I'd grown up in. As for you, you hadn't even waited for the engine to stop before jumping out of the car, running up the length of the lane, and leaping straight into my arms, knocking the wind out of me as you hugged me. I wanted to hold you close and not let you go for hours but much too soon you'd let go and turned to face my mother, who had come out behind me.

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley," you said, as you hugged Mum in turn.

"Oh, hello, dear," Mum replied, returning your embrace. "I'm so glad you could come," she said and you beamed at her.

"Thank you so much for letting my parents and I intrude; I hope it's not too much trouble."

"None at all, dear, none at all," Mum replied and I could tell how happy she was to have you there.

"Elizabeth, Geoffrey, so nice to see you again," Mum greeted your parents.

"Hello again, Mr. and Mrs. Granger." I shook your father's hand and paused, considering whether I should kiss your Mom, or hug her, or shake her hand too. Luckily, she made the first move and stood to kiss my cheek; I bent down to give her better access and smiled at her.

"So nice to see you again, Ron." Your mother's eyes twinkled at me—the same caramel brown as yours—as though she'd always known that someday she'd be greeting me in this capacity.

"Come in, come in," Mum ushered them inside, offering them tea and biscuits and whatever else she'd been cooking up all morning. Speaking over her shoulder, she asked me to get you settled-in. "Hermione, dear, why don't you help him and then the both of you can join us for a spot of lunch." 

~*~

I waited until we were in my room, though I barely made it that far. I swooped you in my arms and kissed you, pouring everything in the gesture, trying to regain the piece of me you'd taken with you when you'd gone away.

"Bloody hell, Hermione."

"Don't swear, Ron," you scolded gently, softly, as you smiled up at me, our foreheads pressed together.

"Bloody hell," I said, just to provoke you, remembering how I'd done much the same as little as a year ago, just for the pleasure of seeing you upset with your skin flushed, your eyes blazing, and your hair falling wildly about your face.

"Hush," you whispered, swatting me lightly on the arm.

"You like it," I grinned, teasing once more, and you shook your head.

"You suffer from a serious case of faulty reasoning," you said.

"Hmm, no," I replied, "I don't believe that's the case at all," I grinned, pulling you closer. You craned your neck to look in my eyes, and from the arch in your right eyebrow I could tell you were skeptical.

"Then how else, pray tell, would you explain this?" you asked, taking the letter I'd sent you last night out of your pocket. I grinned at the sight of it.

"Mmm, thanks for reminding me," I said, puckering my lips exaggeratingly and closing my eyes in waiting. When nothing happened I opened one eye and looked down. You were looking at me as though you remained completely unimpressed by my overwhelmingly rugged good looks and irresistible charms…which, of course, was entirely impossible.

"How, might I ask, did you come to determine these numbers when the more likely scenario is obviously as follows." You pulled out a piece of parchment from your other pocket and handed it to me. I unfolded it and turned to sit on my bed before reading it.

"You're so beautiful, I can't help myself"—987 kisses

"Just because"—1159 kisses

"Because I missed you"—1538 kisses

"Because you're the best girlfriend"—3591 kisses

"Because snogging has become perfectly acceptable now that we've finished exams"—20, 325 kisses.

__

"Hmm, this is most interesting indeed," I said, peering over the piece of parchment and meeting your eyes as my mouth formed a lopsided grin despite my attempts to suppress it. "What do you say," I began, taking your hand and pulling you down next to me, "we just add these up and forget about just who owes whom?" You seemed to consider it for a minute, and smiled as you answered me with a kiss.

~*~

When your parents left at the end of the week, no one was more sorry to see them go than my father, who made them promise on several occasions that they would visit again. We'd all enjoyed having them around the house and I, in particular, had enjoyed seeing how you resembled them. You were most like your father and it surprised me to see how much I had in common with your mother. I'd met her on a few occasions before, of course, but had never spent any large amount of time with her. Though I found myself liking both of your parents very much, your mother was my favourite.

Ginny had seemed to be getting happier and happier as the days had gone by, and she was positively glowing when she bounced down the stairs, that morning, the day after your parents had gone, a few minutes before Harry was to arrive. You and I were sitting on the sofa, both reading. You were reading another one of Jane Austen's novels, Sense and Sensibility_ which I hadn't been able to get into (I suppose _Pride and Prejudice _had only appealed to me so much because of Miss Bennet's and Mr. Darcy's similarities to us). I, on the other hand, was reading a book called _A Brief History of Time_ by a Muggle called Stephen Hawking. His theories were highly interesting if not wholly amusing. Only Muggles would come up with explanations so elaborate; the bloke had obviously never heard of a time turner. Still, your Dad had highly recommended it and had lent me his own copy. He'd struck a fancy in me as he'd told Dad all about technology in the Muggle world and for the first time I'd seriously begun to consider Muggology as a career track._

"Hullo," Ginny greeted us, a large smile on her face. The fire was still glowing green from when Dad had left a few minutes ago to fetch Harry. For "security reasons" we hadn't been able to go along.

"How's Colin?" I asked and you threw me an odd look from over your book. Ginny threw me the same look from the other sofa.

"He's fine, I suppose, why?" she asked me.

"Well I thought the two of you were…friends," I said, becoming confused at Ginny's tone…as though Colin Creevey had been the furthest thing from her mind.

"Yes, I suppose we are, but I haven't spoken to him since after our exams. He's probably visiting Amaryllis for the summer. She told me he was supposed to." Amaryllis…that_ had been her friend's name. But why on earth was Ginny's _boyfriend_ visiting another girl…and why did she act as though it didn't bother her?_

"Are you okay with that?" I asked her, ready to throttle that Creevey git at Ginny's first sign of being upset.

"Of course I am, what are you on about anyway? Colin and Amaryllis have been dating longer than you two have," she said, confusing me even more.

"But," I blundered, "I thought you and Colin…"

"Me and Colin what? Oh…" Her eyes grew wide as she understood. "Why on earth would you think that!?"

"But you…and you…and he…and the train…and before…"

"Try a verb, Ron," you suggested, now snickering behind your book. I had to remember to thank you for your unwavering support, later.

"I heard you tell Amaryllis that you thought he fancied you!" I finally was able to say.

"Oh, that was ages_ ago. Besides, I was wrong…it was her he fancied."_

I would have pursued the subject had a cloud of green smoke not emanated from the fireplace, and had Harry and Dad not stepped out of it a second later. In the midst of greeting Harry, I didn't have time to get to the bottom of what was now the mystery of Ginny's boyfriend. If it wasn't Colin Creevey, who could it possibly be? 

I watched as you stepped up to Harry and gave him a hug, and he blushed slightly as he returned it. My stomach flipped at seeing the two of you, but I said nothing. It always made me nervous when I saw you being affectionate with other blokes; after all, I figured it would only be a matter of time before you came to your senses and sent me out on my arse. I knew that I had nothing to worry about with Harry, but that didn't stop me from remembering how not too long ago I had been certain that the two of you had been having a torrid relationship behind my back. Of course, things between you and me had changed since then, and I was no longer convincing myself that you fancied someone else every other day; accusing you of being a Death Eater had been the best thing I'd ever done.

"Hiya, Harry," I greeted him when you'd let him go, and our rugged handshake turned into a back-pounding hug.

"Hiya, Ron," he looked up at me, looking cheerier than I'd seen him in weeks. Merlin knew he'd looked almost as dejected as Ginny the day we'd taken the Hogwarts Express back to Kings Cross. "It feels great to be here; I don't think I could have spent another minute at the Dursleys'," he said.

"Were they giving you trouble again?" I heard Ginny's voice speak from behind me, and was surprised at how worried she sounded. I knew she cared about Harry, after all he was probably like a seventh brother to her, but I'd all but forgotten she was in the room with all the excitement. Harry also seemed to see her for the first time, and he must really have been surprised that she was there because his eyes remained glued on her for what seemed like ages before he spoke.

"No, they were fine," he said and cleared his throat before he continued. It sounded to me like maybe he was getting a cold, because his voice sounded a bit hoarse. "I just really_ couldn't wait to see you all," he said, clearing his throat again before he could finish his sentence so that really it came out as "I just really couldn't wait to see you—all." I would have to talk to Mum and ask her if she had any Pepperup Potion handy. _

"Come on, Harry, let me help you carry your things upstairs," I said, figuring that Ginny could talk to Harry later if she really wanted to, and that she'd probably want to go lock herself in her room to owl her boyfriend like I suspected she'd been doing every single day since she'd gotten home.

"Er, all right," Harry said, hesitating. "I'll see you later, Ginny," he added as I pulled him up the stairs. He was always the polite one, that Harry, wasn't he? Of course, he really needn't be so courteous around Ginny; she was family…she was used to being in a house full of bad manners.

"Ron, why don't you let Harry settle in before you drag him upstairs?" I heard your voice behind me.

"Hermione, I'm just helping him take his luggage upstairs; aren't you the one that always says that you should never do tomorrow what you can do today? It's not like I'm dragging him off to degnome the garden before he's even set foot in the house," I defended, still pulling on Harry's sleeve so that by the time the words had finished leaving my mouth we were already in my room, unloading his trunk. Harry seemed preoccupied, though, and he kept looking at the door as if he was waiting for someone to come through it.

"Is everything all right, Harry? You look as though you're coming down with something," I asked, though he didn't seem to hear me. "Harry? Earth to Harry," I said, getting a bit worried now. He shook himself out of whatever reverie he was in the middle of, however, and finally turned to answer me.

"What? Oh, I'm fine," he said, though I wasn't quite convinced.

~*~

If I thought that Harry's behaviour would get less abnormal as he got settled into the Burrow, I couldn't have been more wrong. If anything, he and Ginny both seemed to be suffering from the same affliction. They were jumpy around each other (every time I walked into a room they were in they always jumped a metre in the air) and when I spent any time with either of them they seemed to be in the clouds, their heads stuck in some daydream. I'd told you about how bizarre everything seemed, but you seemed to think there was nothing wrong with either of them. In fact, you seemed to encourage their behaviour because every time I confronted one or the other on it, you'd come to their defense and then convince me to go for a walk, or remind me that Mum needed me to do something outside, or that you had wanted to go over some of your research for the Potions essay that I had already finished.

After a week and a half of having to endure this bizarre behaviour, I was half-convinced that both Harry and Ginny were under some kind of mind control. I was so worried that something was seriously wrong with one or both of them, in fact, that I'd completely ignored my earlier devotion to finding the truth behind the mystery of Ginny's boyfriend.

"Maybe we should have asked Harry to come with us." We were outside by the pond, on one of what had become our daily walks. Harry and Ginny never came with us, always having some mysterious work to do, or some unique ailment that made them unable to go outside at a particular hour of the day. Ordinarily I wouldn't have minded in the least as it meant that I got to spend some much-needed time alone with you. Tonight, though, I was a little worried.

"Well, he said he was working on his Divination homework," you reminded me for the hundredth time. I really didn't know why you were taking his side tonight of all nights; after all, you put less stock in Divination than you did in Quidditch (even though you'd recently developed a slight interest in the sport thanks to yours truly).

"You know, that just doesn't ring true, Hermione; I've been friends with Harry for a long time, and I know by now when he's keeping something from me. And Divination_? You of all people aren't going to buy that he wants to get an advance start on _that_ subject, are you? Maybe we should go back early tonight and see what's going on."_

"No, Ron, I don't think that's a good idea," you began, but I was used to your objections. You seemed to think that it was important for Harry to get some time alone, and almost every time I wanted to go see what was wrong with him you would convince me that I should let him be. Tonight, though, I wouldn't let you.

"Hermione, I love you," I said, cupping your face and kissing you lightly, "but I think you're wrong," I told you, and before you had time to react I'd already begun walking back to the house. I could hear you behind me, trying to catch up.

"Ron, wait! I don't think you should bother him, Ron!" You were running now, but my legs were quite a bit longer than yours and I'd already reached the kitchen door, made my way inside, and had gotten half-way upstairs before you caught up to me.

"Ron, please don't," you said from behind me when I'd reached my bedroom door, and my hand remained frozen over the doorknob. I knew before I opened the door that whatever it was that I would find it wouldn't be good. You obviously knew something that I didn't, but nothing could have prepared me for just what that was.

I don't know what's more disturbing, walking in on your little sister and best friend snogging like no tomorrow, groping at each other in ways I'd rather not envision, or realizing that your girlfriend, the girl you love and trust above any other, knew about it the whole time. 

What happened next was like slow motion: the door opening, the sound of the hinges creaking, then the gasps of surprise coming from Harry and Ginny, their struggle to get away from each other and pretend as though nothing had happened, Harry's half-hearted explanation, his trying to make light of the situation. I heard the sounds of my steps on the floor boards, felt my arm spring back behind my head, the tightness of my hand as it balled into a fist, and the painful crack of my knuckles as they landed against Harry's jaw. The site of his head fly backwards at the contact seemed to take hours, the panic in Ginny's eyes I knew would stay with me forever, but what I would never forget was the emptiness inside me, the hurt at knowing that all along…all along_…you had known and had conspired to hide this from me._

"I can't believe you knew about this," I whispered, surprised I could still talk with the pain coursing through my insides.

"Ron, please let me explain," you pleaded, taking a step towards me, but I couldn't look at you, couldn't have you touching me.

"Don't," I said. One word, four little letters, but it held such power right then. I could see the tears glistening as they began falling down your cheeks and could feel the lump form in my throat as I held back my own. Before any more damage could be done I turned on my heels and left my room, left the Burrow, and began running blindly, a single thought running through my head: why?

__

I don't know just how far my feet had carried me when I finally stopped running. All I knew was that my lungs were on fire but that the pain was nothing compared to the emptiness I felt…the betrayal I felt. It was one thing for Harry to have been lying to me and dating my sister behind my back. I was upset with him, it was true, but I also knew that in time I would get used to the idea of the two of them together; after all, hadn't I suspected the possibility of an attachment between them earlier, and hadn't the two of us done much the same thing to Harry and Ginny by keeping our relationship a secret for so long? Though part of me understood why I had been angry enough to hit Harry, I also knew that what had driven me to hit him hadn't actually been my anger but my shock. Had it been anyone other than Harry in that room snogging my sister, he would have had the same treatment. Besides, it wasn't Harry that I was worried about; after I let him take a free shot at me, things would be back to normal between us.

My legs gave under me then, and I sank to the ground, gathering my knees up to my chest. If I felt so betrayed, if I felt so alone, it wasn't that Harry and Ginny had been hiding all of this from me. No, the reason I was so indescribably hurt was that not only had you known about those two all along and not told me, but you'd conspired against me to keep me from finding out. Ironically, though, the reason I was so upset now didn't stem so much from the way that you'd hurt me but from the memory of how I had hurt you before I'd run away.

I could still see the look on your face when I'd pushed you away and the glistening of tears as they fell down your cheeks.. I remembered how my own tears had threatened to fall when I saw the heartbroken look on your face and the lump formed in my throat again at the knowledge that I had caused you pain that I would gladly have bore for you had I not been the source of it in the first place. Alone, in that empty field, realizing how horrid I had been to you, I finally gave way to those tears that had been threatening to fall and I cried. I couldn't remember the last time I'd done so, couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so desperately alone as I did now. I cried silently, my body shaking from the effort not to be heard though I knew no one was there to hear. I let my head fall on my knees, and all the pain I'd felt seemed to increase at the thought of the pain that I had caused you. All at once it didn't matter anymore that I felt betrayed by you, it didn't matter anymore that you'd lied to me or that you'd kept Harry's relationship from me. All that mattered was the memory of me _hurting _you_ and my wishing that I could do anything to take it back._

I don't know how you ever found me, sitting in the middle of an overgrown field with the long grasses hiding me from open view; I don't know why you even bothered to come after me after the way I'd treated you, but as horrible a fight we'd just had, and despite the fact that had you not forgiven me I wouldn't have been able to blame you, you did come after me, and you did find me. I didn't see you or hear you but the moment I felt arms surround me I knew_ it was you. I fought to stop the racking of my shoulders, but knowing that you were there, that you hadn't given up on me at all made it impossible for me to stop the tears, which were now coming in torrents. Neither of us said anything when you sat beside me, hugging me close, and when I lifted my head from my knees to take you in my arms I saw the tears glistening in your eyes and put my arms around you; holding each other as though it was the only thing grounding us, we cried together. _

It was then that I knew you were the only woman I would ever feel comfortable showing such a degree of emotion without feeling self-conscious about doing so. It was then that I realized that no matter what happened between us, no matter how bad or how difficult things got that I would always care about you and worry about you before I could even begin to think about myself.

"I'm so sorry, Ron, I should have told you," you sobbed into my shoulder, and I stroked your hair, the brown strands like silk between my fingers.

"I'm sorry too," I replied, my voice scratchy and barely above a whisper for its hoarseness. "I never should have pushed you away; I didn't mean it; I could never mean it," I told you and I felt your arms tighten around me in response; we held each other that way well into the night.

~*~

"There is something about that summer that I never told you and that to this day you don't know about. That night, in that field, I realized what I had always known in my heart. I realized that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, that there would never be anyone else in the universe that I could love half as much as I love you. When you and I had made it back to the house, all you know is that I apologized to Harry but what you don't know is that the next morning, while you were still sleeping, he and I left the Burrow and flooed to Diagon Alley.

"Hermione, a week ago I asked you to marry me and you told me that you were afraid that after all these years my feelings for you might not be as powerful as they once had been; the journal you're holding in your hands is one that you asked me to write to prove to you that I love you just as much today as I loved you then. The truth, Hermione, is that there is not a single day that passes by where I don't fall in love with you a little more.

"I'm kneeling in front of you, Hermione, holding a ring that I bought years ago with Harry, the day after, for the first time in my life, I became truly afraid that I might have lost you. I knew then that you were the one for me. I knew then that you were the one I wanted to spend the rest of forever with, and I knew then that even forever wouldn't be enough…that once forever was over, that you were the one person with whom I would want to start it over again with. 

"This may not be the most expensive or nicest ring in the world but it's a ring that I've had ever since I was eighteen years old, a ring that I've held onto until now. We've been enemies, friends, lovers, and now it would be my greatest honor if you'll say you'll be my wife.

"Please marry me, Hermione, because despite what you think of everything, knowing you has been the best thing to ever happen to me and no matter what happens from now on, I will always consider myself the luckiest man on earth. I love you."

__

And then you said yes.


End file.
